You are Cordially Invited
by Indigo-Night-Wisp
Summary: Logan stared down at the piece of paper in his hand, announcing doom and destruction and the probable end of the world in thirteen simple, horrifying words. You are cordially invited to the wedding of Wade Wilson and Elizabeth Braddock…
1. Part I

**Disclaimer: "Elizabeth . . . it would never have worked between us darling." –Captain Jack Sparrow**

 **A/N: Dark Lord of the X-men, I am as always sorry for the delay. (Like, seriously, really incredibly sorry.)**

* * *

 **Part I: Logan Howlett and the Wedding He Didn't Want to Plan Anyway**

* * *

Wade Wilson and Betsy Braddock are getting married.

In order of importance, this is going to be:

1\. terrifying

2\. a disaster

3\. beautiful

Logan isn't going to cry though, no matter what Kitty says. He hasn't gone soft, and he doesn't care how many people show him photos of him smiling sappily at Stripes or Red or even Chuck, once. He may be old, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know what Photoshop is, okay. Those pictures are fake.

He's been glaring at Snowball and the Elf for hours while the two idiots try to arrange tassel vines for the wedding around the mansion. The arbor Logan built with Scott is starting to sag to one side, he hasn't seen Kitty since she ran off this morning promising to get the photographer arranged, and he's one hundred percent certain that Stripes is in a closet somewhere with that Cajun swamp rat.

So far, it hasn't been a great day for Logan.

"Logan!" Chuck says cheerfully, wheeling onto the balcony where Logan has retreated to try escaping the chaos. "Isn't this a wonderful day?"

Logan is definitely the only sane person in this place.

"Chuck," he says, "I hate weddings. Also," he adds, untruthfully, "I hate Wade."

"That's not true," Chuck puts in. Logan keeps talking like he didn't say a word.

"So why did you make me help plan this stupid wedding?"

Chuck leans back in his chair and puts his hands under his chin, folded together like he's praying. Despite the fact that he's leaning back, he somehow gives the impression that he's resting his chin on his fingers. No matter how many times Logan's seen him do it, it's still impressive.

"Logan," Chuck says, "I know that secretly, deep down inside of yourself, the happiness of your friends means a great deal to you."

Logan's actually not listening anymore, because he has to save $200 worth of tassels from being torn apart by the two knuckleheads who are supposed to be arranging them. "Hey!" he shouts, claws shoving out of his fists. "You two are gonna get this right, so help me, or I'll be cuttin' something off!" He stomps off to deal with Kurt and Bobby, who look terrified and amused. But mostly terrified.

Charles sighs. "Deep, _deep_ down," he says.

000

Betsy and Wade sent out the invitation two months ago. Logan was standing in the middle of the mansion's kitchen when he got the news, contemplating the very old, slow coffee maker that should have been retired years ago. Everyone in the mansion had some kind of sentimental attachment to the stupid thing, except for Logan, who was first, practical, and second, tired of waiting an hour for his coffee in the morning when modern technology had progressed to the point where he could have it in only a few minutes.

Logan did not live through four wars and the entirety of the 1900's for slow brewing coffee.

The peaceful silence of the kitchen was shattered by Rogue bursting through the door and hollering at the top of her lungs, "BETSY'S GETTIN' MARRIED!"

Logan grunted, because why should he care and then he remembered who Betsy's boyfriend was, and consequently, who she was likely to be getting married to.

"Gimme that," he growled, and swiped the invitation out of Rogue's hand, ignoring her indignant squawk.

He stared down at the piece of paper in his hand, announcing doom and destruction and the probable end of the world in thirteen simple, horrifying words. _You are cordially invited to the wedding of Wade Wilson and Elizabeth Braddock…_

Invited, it said. _You are cordially invited to the wedding_. Not, you are cordially about to be roped into hosting, planning, and preparing the wedding of your not-best friend and a telepathic supermodel ninja.

(Which, honestly? Logan can hardly believe Betsy is a real person most days. And don't even get him started on Wade.)

Betsy and Wade have basically no money (of their own –Betsy's parents are stupidly rich) and no idea how to plan a wedding, so Chuck offered the Institute for the ceremony and reception. Gambit, inexplicably, offered to deal with catering, Jean and Scott put themselves in charge of getting everyone dressed properly, and somehow, through no fault of his own, Logan has ended up as the wedding planner, directing all of this nonsense.

Which leads to things like this.

"Jimmy!"

"Don't call me that," Logan retorts automatically. He turns around and glares at the irascible, uncontrollable, extremely irritating pain in his backside. Wade grins at him.

"Jimmy," Wade says again, as if Logan hadn't spoken. He considers stabbing Wilson in the throat but decides not to risk the carpet. They just replaced it last month.

"What?" he growls instead.

"Come with me to call Betsy's family."

Logan knows he's going to regret this. Darn his curiosity! "Why?" he asks.

Wade _pouts_. He's wearing jeans and a hoodie, so he doesn't have his mask. All of his scars are on display, white slices and pits in his unaccountably tan face. He's arguably the most dangerous person in the building, and he pouts like a four year old. "I might get nervous and forget what I'm trying to say."

"Why are you waiting so long to call them anyway? The wedding is tomorrow!" A thought occurs. "You _have_ told them that you're marrying their daughter, right?" He wouldn't put it past Wade to just… not mention it.

"Well," Wade shrugs. "Betsy told them. They hung up."

Logan scowls. Betsy Braddock is a beautiful human being (Logan will deny thinking this later, even though Jean definitely heard him) and she doesn't deserve for her parents to be jerks about her marriage.

Even if they have a good point. Wade is very much an acquired taste.

"Fine," Logan sighs, but only because Wade is pathetic and annoying, not because Logan actually cares.

Of course not.

The phone call goes something like this:

Betsy's mother picks up the phone and says, "Hello." Wade panics and throws the phone at Logan.

"Mrs. Braddock," he says, glaring at Wade.

"Yes? Who is this?"

"This is Logan Howlett, ma'am. I'm… I'm a friend of your daughter."

"Oh!"

"I'm helping her plan her wedding–" He gets no further.

"Her wedding? To that ruffian scoundrel running around with a sword? We met him once, and let me tell you, we are not happy with this arrangement! Not one bit!" She sounds like that Wonder Nanny lady, very hoity-toity and British.

Logan grits his teeth, conscious of Wade biting his fingernails and listening to every word. "I understand, ma'am, but Betsy wants to know when she can expect your family for the wedding. Are you flying in tonight–"

"She doesn't respect our opinion at all! We didn't give our blessing for this! That man doesn't even look _human_."

Logan loses his temper. "You know what, lady? Fine. You don't like Wade? You don't like this marriage? _Fine_. You're un-invited. Your daughter wanted to share her big day with you, but you can't get past the fact that she's marrying Wade. Who, incidentally, is my best friend, so as far as I'm concerned, you can take a high dive off a cliff. We won't call again." He slams the phone into the cradle.

Wade is staring.

"Shut up," Logan says. Wade starts to grin.

"Aw, _Jimmy_."

"Shut up," he says again, gruffly.

000

Rogue, actually, is not in a closet with Remy LeBeau, excuse you Logan.

She is in the _infirmary_ with Remy LeBeau, but no closets are involved, at all.

The idea is that since both of them hate the infirmary with the passion of a thousand burning suns, no one will think to look for them here. They almost never get the chance to be alone, and neither one of them wants to deal with anyone screaming, "I told you so!" about their relationship.

Also, the infirmary has latex gloves and surgical masks.

"Remy," Rogue moans as he presses his surgical mask-covered lips to her pulse. Her eyes flutter and then… he stops and pulls away. Which, wait, what?

"What?"says Remy.

"What?" says Rogue. "Why'd you stop?" She's maybe pouting, a little bit.

"You said my name," Remy defends himself.

"Actually," says Rogue, glaring up at her stupid, attention-paying boyfriend, "I moaned your name."

It takes a moment. She loves this boy, but he can be kind of slow sometimes.

"Oh," he says finally, eyes widening.

"Yes."

"Oh." He's grinning. It looks like it's trying to be smug, but instead it's shyly pleased and stupidly adorable. Rogue wants to roll her eyes but also kiss him again. She debates and then sacrifices one desire for another and pushes her lips into his.

Well, she pushes her surgical mask against his, which will have to do for now.

000

Logan is grumbling. This isn't unusual: Logan usually is grumbling. But right now he's grumbling about floral arrangements, which is not a common topic for Logan Grumbles.

"Kid, I don't care what color the flowers are. Just bring some home so we can get to putting 'em up already!"

Jubilee, on the other end of the line, informs Logan that matching colors are Important for Weddings and anyway, the florist is already fixing the mix-up. "It'll only take another two hours," she says.

"Two hours?" Logan groans. "What are they putting in there, imported Sampaguita?"

"Oh!" Jubilee gasps. "Do you think we should ask them to?"

"No!" Logan exclaims. "Just let them do the job and get back here as soon as possible, okay?" He hangs up and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Trouble?" Chuck pops up like he always seems to when Logan starts getting a headache. He gives Chuck a suspicious look and shakes his head.

"There's some kind of problem with the flowers… I don't know. Jubilee is taking care of it." He cracks his knuckles and then his neck. "You seen Half-Pint around?"

"Kitty? No, I haven't seen her since this morning."

"Yeah," Logan sighs. "Me too. She's supposed to be finding a photographer. This is New York! How hard can it be to find some kid who wants to make a few hundred bucks taking pictures of a wedding?"

Chuck hides a smile. Well, he thinks he's hiding it, but Logan has eyes in the back of his skull, Professor, you can't hide from him. "I believe Kitty is attempting to find a slightly higher caliber of photographer."

Logan rolls his eyes so hard he's surprised they don't fall out of his head. "She's still late. And where is that _Cajun_?"

"I saw him and Rogue in the basement," Bobby chirps as he skates by with his arms full of Christmas lights. Logan catches him by the arm.

"We're not putting up Christmas lights, bub. Put 'em back."

"Aww." Bobby sulks.

"Logan, there's no need to be grumpy," Chuck admonishes.

 _Logan!_ Jean yells straight into his head. _Problem!_

"Logan!" Kurt exclaims breathlessly.

"Kitty! Kitty!" his phone starts shrieking. (Logan doesn't go in for frilly ringtones. The name of whoever is calling him does just fine.)

"Jimmy!" Wade sticks his head over the balcony above them and waves his arms frantically. "Got a problem!" Is it wrong to kill the groom the day before the wedding? Maybe it's okay if he'll come back to life?

"Now, Logan," Chuck says indulgently.

"Logan!"

"Logan!"

"Jimmy!"

Logan very seriously considers punching himself in the face, claws first.

* * *

 **A/N: Sampaguita is the national flower of the Philippines. It's in the jasmine family.**

 **I'm baaaaack! Updates weekly, on Mondays. Dark Lord, if it looks like I'm gonna forget, feel free to remind me!**

 **Next Part: Wade hasn't written his vows, Betsy's dress doesn't fit, Rogue and Remy are nowhere to be found, and Kitty is running away with the photographer.**


	2. Part II

**Disclaimer: ". . . And she's all set to marry Norrington just like** ** _she_** **promised, so we're all men of our word… except for Elizabeth, who is in fact, a woman." –Captain Jack Sparrow**

 **A/N: Apparently updating on Mondays is too hard for me to make it happen at a normal time, so we're switching to Tuesdays next week.**

* * *

 **Part II: Logan Howlett and the Pre-Wedding Jitters**

* * *

Logan can't find Rogue, which wouldn't be a problem except that he also can't find Remy.

Logan takes a moment to be horrified that he just thought of that scrawny Cajun as "Remy." He hopes he isn't coming down with some kind of mind-altering disease. He ignores the little voice in his head piping up to say, "But you can't get sick!"

Logan does not want to consider the possibility that he is on a first name basis with Remy.

Dang it.

Anyway, he can't find Rogue, he can't find Re –Gumbo, and for some reason, Kitty has dragged home a spikey-headed bruiser claiming to be a photographer.

Chuck does not seem very worried about Kitty bringing strange men home with her.

"He's a photographer, Logan."

"He's huge! And he has prison tattoos."

"Oh, they're not prison tattoos."

"They are!" Logan has been around for a very long time. He knows prison tattoos when he sees them.

"He has business cards."

Logan stares. "So does Magneto!"

Chuck's face immediately becomes sappy and Logan regrets everything.

"Is he coming to the wedding?" Chuck asks hopefully. Ever since his old friend stopped being a murderous mutant overlord, Chuck has been trying to include him in more Institute gatherings. Luckily for everyone involved, Erik isn't really the family gatherings type.

"You'll have to ask Betsy," Logan grunts. "Wade won't know." Logan isn't exactly sure if Wade knows that _he_ is supposed to actually go to the wedding.

Chuck looks wistful. "I think I'll go give him a call," he says. "It'll be nice to catch up."

"No, wait, Chuck, you can't leave. I need your help with–" The foyer door swings shut behind Chuck and the gentle _thunk_ it makes when it slides into place tears another hole into Logan's sanity.

"Jiiiiimmmmyyyyyyyy!"

Amazing. Logan actually had thought it was impossible for Wade to be any more annoying, but it turns out that he should never have doubted.

Wade is sitting on the railing of the second story landing, swinging inexplicably bare feet and holding a notepad in one hand and a pen in the other. It's one of Chuck's good gold-plated ink fountain pens and Logan lets a vindictive thrill run through him because he knows that it's definitely going to end up broken at some point.

 _Serves him right_ , he thinks grumpily. "What?" he grunts aloud.

"I need your help," Wade says, like he hasn't been moaning and wailing for Logan for the past ten minutes.

"With what?" Logan growls. Wade waves the notebook at him and nearly falls off the railing.

"Vows!" he chirps.

"What?"

"I haven't written my vows yet," Wade says. Logan stares at him. The wedding is tomorrow. The rehearsal dinner is in about eight hours. And Wade hasn't written his _vows_?

Logan didn't sign up for this inefficient, last-minute crap. "What do you expect me to do about it?" he growls.

"Help me!" Wade whines.

Incredulous, Logan throws up his hands. "You're asking me for help writing something romantic?"

Wade pauses, a thoughtful look coming over his face. "Huh. Good point. You kinda suck at that."

Logan rolls his eyes. "Yeah. So write your own vows. I'm sure Betsy will be plenty happy with whatever as long as it comes from your heart."

"But where do I start?" Wade is pouting. Logan is completely ready to stab him.

"Just… start with how you feel about her!" he says. "How you love, heck, I dunno, the way she looks in moonlight while you're both killing Hydra agents, or something. Say something about how you wanna spend the rest of your life calling her at three in the morning to bail you out of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. Tell her that you love her more than you've ever loved anything in the world, that you'd die for her, you'd do anything for her. I don't know. What."

Wade is staring at him. He holds out the notebook. "Can you write some of that down?"

Logan pushes him off the railing.

000

"Logan!" Jean shrieks when he enters the room. "Thank God! We're having a problem with Betsy's dress!"

He stares. From all the screaming, he'd thought they were dying or on fire or something. "What," he starts, but as usual, doesn't get any further.

"It's the wrong size!" Betsy wails. "How am I supposed to get married in a dress that's too long and too tight?" She's sitting at her dressing table, staring dramatically at her reflection. "Am I just too fat?" she asks mournfully.

Logan hasn't been in a relationship in some years, but he still knows the answer to that one. "Of course not," he growls. "The dress is the problem, not you, darlin'." He glances at Jean. "Is there anything you can do right now?" he asks.

Jean shrugs helplessly. "We've already called the dressmaker and she's on her way over," she says. "But we don't know if it can be fixed by this evening."

Logan relaxes. The wedding isn't until tomorrow night. "But it'll be done by the wedding, right?" he says.

"Logan," Jean says exasperatedly, "having the dress fit only on the day of the wedding is hardly ideal!"

He shrugs. "Better than not fitting at all," he says. Jean glares at him and he rolls his eyes. Honestly, it's like they've all been infected with some kind of common-sense sucking parasite.

Making a mental note to have Hank look into that –he wouldn't put it past some of the X-Men's enemies to try something of the sort –Logan stoops down (slightly) too look into Betsy's eyes.

"Don't worry," he says as gently as he can manage. "Your dress will be ready in time for the wedding."

Betsy gives him a tearfully grateful smile. "Do you think so, Logan?" she says.

He knows so, and if he has to cut someone's head off or sew the dang dress himself to make that happen, so be it. "Yep," he says.

She sniffs, loudly. "Thanks." Looking around her, she says, "Oh, wow, there's still so much to do! I should start helping with… stuff." She waves a hand as if unsure of what that stuff might be.

Logan consults his mental list. "Why don't you and the wedding party make sure that everyone else's clothes are ready while you wait for the dressmaker?" he says. That should keep them all occupied for a while.

"Oh, lord!" Jean exclaims. "He's right, Betsy, we haven't even checked the bridesmaid's dresses or the tuxes for the groomsmen, and God knows that we have to pick out clothes for all the other boys, because they'll all show up in t-shirt tuxedos if we don't."

Logan leaves them fluttering about the room and goes back downstairs.

"Logan!" And here's Kitty.

"Half-Pint," he growls. "Listen, I don't wanna freak you out, but I think your photographer might have been in pris–"

"Logan!" she interrupts. "Sorry to interrupt but we've got a bigger problem! Have you seen Rogue?"

He pauses, considers. Narrows his eyes.

"No, I haven't. Not all day."

One of Kitty's eyes is huge and round and the other is squinting. It's a very impressive exasperated look. Logan would try it himself except that he doesn't want to look like an idiot.

"Uh," she says. "Well. I can't find Rogue. And," she holds up her hands like she's surrendering, "I can't seem to locate Remy either."

By the time Chuck arrives in an unhurried spin of wheels and perfectly serene aplomb, Logan is practically breathing fire.

"He's kidnapped her again, I know it," he insists not-quite-honestly to the Professor, who is definitely not taking this as seriously as he should be.

"Now, Logan," he says. Logan waits.

"What?" he asks. Chuck blinks.

"Oh," he says. "To be honest, I didn't expect you to let me finish. I didn't really have anything ready."

Logan growls and throws his hands up. "We have to go after them!"

"Logan, I am sure that Remy would never do anything to harm Rogue. The opposite might not be entirely true, but I wouldn't think that would matter to you as much."

"What? No, I know that!" Logan doesn't think Gumbo is going to _hurt_ Rogue. He's maybe a little worried about what else they might be doing, but Rogue is a big girl and Logan doesn't run her life for her. He adds Cajun-threatening to his to-do list, but it's not the Remy and Rogue missing _together_ thing he's upset about.

It's more the Remy and Rogue _missing_ together thing that's sticking in his craw.

"Don't they know the rehearsal dinner is tonight?" he yells. "Rogue is in the wedding party! That Cajun is supposed to be catering!"

Honestly, this is so irresponsible.

Chuck is staring at him. "What?" he growls.

The Professor shakes his head. "I simply thought that you would be more upset about Rogue going off with Remy than the fact that they might miss the rehearsal dinner."

Logan puts his hands on his hips. "Listen, Chuck," he says, "you put me in charge of planning this wedding, okay? I didn't want the job. I don't know the first thing about planning weddings. But if I'm doing it, then I'm gonna do it right! And I don't need _that Cajun_ and Stripes throwing any wrenches into the mix!" He pulls out his cell phone and glares at Xavier. "I've got a phone call to make."

He stomps away and ignores the way Chuck is laughing at him in his own head.

000

Logan's phone call to his old army buddy who keeps an eye on the GPS tracker he attached to Gumbo's motorcycle after the kid joined the X-Men is fruitless. Remy and Rogue apparently left it in a Walmart parking lot and what? Took a cab? Hitchhiked?

To where, is the real question.

This is frustrating, but Logan has other problems right now. His main one is standing too close to Kitty and smiling too widely at Kitty, and about to get his face caved in by Piotr.

Logan likes Piotr. He's a man of few words, and he doesn't argue when Logan tells him that he doesn't care if the legal drinking age in Russia is eleven and a half, he's in America now, and he's not drinking until he's twenty-one.

Also, Piotr looks at Half-Pint like she's the only sunshine in his cold, cold heart, and Logan has found that this is less unacceptable than any of the other options on that front.

Logan would like to make it known that he doesn't approve of the way the kids at the Institute throw themselves in and out of """relationships.""" He knows that makes him sound like an old… fuddy-duddy is the word Rogue had used once.

Rem – _that Cajun_ had laughed so hard he'd had to leave the dinner table to calm down.

Logan doesn't care. Call him an old man, but in his day… Well, okay, so he is an old man. The point is, Logan never liked Lance. And he doesn't like this photographer either. It's not just the prison tattoos. It's also the haircut and the huge shoulders and the very bright, shiny teeth.

No one has teeth that white unless they're trying to hide something.

"He's a perfectly nice person, Logan!" Kitty says exasperatedly. "His name is–"

Logan doesn't care what his name is. "I don't care what his name is," he interrupts. "I don't like his smell."

"Logan, please tell me you are not going around smelling our wedding photographer," Kitty says. Logan growls.

"He's a fraud," he says, groundlessly.

Kitty rolls her eyes. "Okay, sure. But Betsy said I was 'an exquisite gem' for finding him, so there." She flounces away, probably to find Prison Tats.

Logan admits that he can't really argue with "exquisite gem" and decides to see how Jean is getting along.

000

The thing is, they really should have started planning this whole wedding about two months ago, when they were first informed that it would be happening. For some reason, neither Betsy or Wade (okay, so the reason for that one is obvious) actually did any planning whatsoever in those two months, and so when the Week Of appeared, the Wedding looming on the horizon, and _nothing_ was ready, panic set in and they called on the X-Men for help.

Which is how Logan Howlett has ended up here, nodding along while Jean explains her choices of tuxedos and cummerbunds to him as if he a) understands and b) cares.

"It's fine, Red," he says for the eighth time. "It's fine. Whatever you choose, I'm positive it'll be fine."

Jean gives him a hopeful smile. "You think so?"

" _Yes_."

"So that's everyone then?" she looks surprised. The groomsmen (Logan and Nick Fury, though only one of them are actually confirmed to be coming) have had their tuxes ordered, the bridesmaids (Jean and Rogue) have been fitted and ready for weeks (the only part of this wedding that was on time). Jean has arranged for all of the other members of the X-Men to have appropriate clothing, and she's been running around for days doing all of this, so it makes sense that she's a little lost.

"It'll all be perfect," Logan assures her. "How's Betsy's dress?" he asks to distract her.

Jean's face lights up. "Well, the lady from the dress shop just got here, and she says that she should be able to get it all sorted out by tomorrow evening, so that's good! If no other problems arise…" she trails off meaningfully, giving Logan a Look.

He doesn't really get what she's trying to imply, but he guesses. "Uhh, Rogue?" he asks.

"Where is she?" Jean exclaims. Logan shakes his head.

"Beats me," he says wearily. "We've got other problems."

"You might want to check on Wade," Jean says sympathetically.

"Now what?" Logan groans.

"He was muttering about chimichangas and Bea Arthur," Jean says.

"That's actually pretty normal for Wade," Logan reminds her.

"Yeah, but he was also stabbing himself in the hand with a throwing star," Jean said.

Okay, so that is kind of weird. "I'll check on him," Logan says.

But he doesn't get the chance, because as soon as he gets downstairs, someone starts knocking on the front door, daintily.

Logan stops and gives the front door a hard stare. The X-Men are not a group of people who often receive visits from people who knock daintily. Frankly, they don't really receive visits from people who _knock_.

Bobby and Kurt stick their heads out of the kitchen and Kitty pokes her head around the corner, followed by Prison Tats. Scott pauses on one foot on the stairs. They all turn and look at the door.

Logan gestures at Ray, who is standing closest to the door. "Well, open it." Ray swallows nervously and opens the door.

"Hello, all!" a cheery British accent floats into the mansion foyer. "I'm not too late for the wedding am I?"

"Uh," says Ray.

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know who I am. Just run along and tell Betsy that her brother is here, won't you?"

* * *

 **A/N: The legal drinking age in Russia is actually 18 as far as I know. It was just funnier to say 11.5.**

 **Next Part: Logan didn't sign up to be the best man, Betsy's brother shows up to """help,""" Remy and Rogue ran off to Louisiana again, and there are too many flowers in this house.**


	3. Part III

**Disclaimer: "Elizabeth!" [to Gibbs] "Hide the rum." –Captain Jack Sparrow**

 **A/N: Late, as usual.**

* * *

 **Part III: Logan Howlett and the Great Floral Caper**

* * *

So Betsy has a twin brother, as it turns out. Who knew?

Well, Betsy, presumably, but she never bothered to tell any of them about him. Or maybe just not Logan.

Why doesn't anyone tell him anything anymore?

"Brian Braddock," the young man announces, smiling a very pleased smile and sticking his hand out to shake Logan's. Logan shakes gingerly. Brian looks sort of like a Ken doll, which wouldn't impress Logan except that Logan knows better than to underestimate people just because they have symmetrically, aesthetically perfect faces.

Storm, for instance, looks like a goddess, and she inspires in Logan the same kind of admiration that an _actual_ goddess might, should he ever meet one.

Namely, awe. With a little bit of terror, for flavor.

Brian looks all around the mansion, still shaking Logan's hand. Logan pulls away carefully.

"Logan," he says. Brian's face lights up.

"The best man!" he cheers. "Betsy has told me loads about you!"

Logan sputters. "I never agreed to that!" He hadn't. Probably? He had taken Wade out for his bachelor party a few nights ago. It had consisted of the two of them fighting with every anti-mutant paramilitary group they could find within five hundred miles of Bayville. There were a surprisingly large number of them.

Possibly, Logan should tell Chuck about that.

But taking the groom out for a night of murder and fancy drinks after (Wade likes those little blue cocktails) doesn't mean he signed up to be the best man!

Does it?

Aw, heck, he's gonna have to give a speech, isn't he?

"Spiffing place, this," Brian is saying. He's so British it's making Logan's eyes twitch. "Betsy told me that she'd taken up with some hero types, but I never expected it to be so fancy." His blue eyes twinkle at the cluster of young mutants watching him from behind Logan and Piotr's broad shoulders.

"Betsy invited you," Logan says slowly. Brian gives him a strange look.

"Of course!" he says. "I'm her twin brother. If she wouldn't have me, she wouldn't have anyone!" He laughs with his mouth, but his eyes are serious. Logan nods thoughtfully.

"Betsy!" he yelled over his shoulder. "Your brother's here!"

He hears her footsteps on the stairs almost before he's finished speaking and then she's flying past him to smack into the Adonis on the doorstep.

"Brian!" she screeches delightedly. "You came!"

"Of course I did, darling!" he says, hugging her tightly and twirling her around in circles. "I said I would!"

Her face falls. "Mum and Dad," she begins. Brian cuts her off with another hug.

"Don't you worry about it," he says firmly. "They're being ridiculous and they'll get over it. Or," he says, when Betsy makes a dubious sound, "they won't, and they'll miss out on all sorts of wonderful occasions with you and your new husband. Where is Wade, by the way?"

"On the roof," says Betsy, like that's a normal response to that question. "He wanted to give us some time to ourselves."

Actually, Logan is pretty sure, Wade wanted time to find a way to hide his face from his fiancée's brother. For all that Wade pretends not to mind about his scars, Logan knows that he gets incredibly self-conscious sometimes.

Not that Betsy's parents had helped any with their comments.

"Kind of him," Brian says. "Now, you'll have to introduce me to everyone. I feel like I know all you lovely people, but I can't say I've actually met any of you… except for dear Rogue, of course. Where is she?"

Logan growls and throws his hands up. "Don't remind me!" he shouts, and stomps away. Brian being here means that he doesn't have to worry about Betsy at least. She'll be distracted for a while with introductions and tours and all that other stuff that all of the mansion residents go through when their families come to visit the first time.

Which will give Logan time to find Rem– _Gumbo_ and Rogue and skin them both for skipping out on him.

000

Of course, before Logan can do any skinning, he has bigger problems.

Well, not bigger, exactly, but more immediate, and by that he means, _right here in front of him instead of in Louisiana or wherever._

Logan pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes very loudly. It's not a _sigh_. It's just breathing.

Loudly.

"You what?" he clarifies.

Jubilee's expression is sheepish, but also gleeful, because all of the children in this wretched school love to see Logan suffer. He's quitting as soon as this stupid wedding is over.

For real this time.

"I might have ordered like, a few more flowers than we actually need," Jubilee says again.

"How many is 'a few'?"

Jubilee tries her grin on him. "Oh, only like, three dozen?"

"Three _dozen_?"

Mistaking his shock for disbelief, she confesses. "Okay, so maybe more like five or six dozen…"

"Flowers?"

"Bouquets."

Her grin is cute, but it's not that cute. "Jubilation Lee!" he growls. Her eyes get very wide.

"I'm sorry," she says in a small voice. "I messed up the order and it just seemed like it would confuse everything more if I canceled one of them and I didn't want to accidentally mess up even more."

She's sniffling by the end and Logan feels his heart melting. Jubilee's bright yellow coat sleeves are hiding her face from him, and he hates the thought that she doesn't want him to see her cry. Hates the thought that he might have _made_ her cry.

"Aw, Sparky," he rumbles awkwardly. She peeks at him from behind her arm. He rubs the back of his neck with one hand. "I'll take care of it," he promises. "It'll be okay."

Jubilee swipes at her face and smiles at him. "Thanks, Logan," she says. She pats his arm and wanders off to meet Brian Braddock. She'll enjoy that, probably. She likes those British television shows so much, she'll probably love meeting someone who couldn't encapsulate the spirit of the country more if his name was actually Captain Britain or something.

Logan wonders suddenly how ol' Steve is doing and vaguely hopes that there will be some kind of national emergency that Captain America needs Wolverine to help with _right now_. He waits for a second just in case, but finally concedes that nothing is going to happen from that angle.

He stares at the flowers and almost wishes to be helping Wade write vows instead.

It takes an hour to move all of the flowers out of the foyer. Logan recruits Ray and Roberto and Kurt and they sort out the flowers that are supposed to be here and Logan tells Kurt to stuff the rest into a closet somewhere and they'll handle it later.

He walks out of the foyer and into an ambush.

"Logan!"

Logan glowers. It's very intimidating, because Logan is a frickin' professional and he never gives any half-hearted glares. "What," he says.

Brian Braddock doesn't appear to notice the glare, so Logan adds a quiet growl for good measure and makes a note to call the kid "bub" at least once in this conversation.

"How can I assist you, old chap?" Brian asks. "I'm at your service."

"First," says Logan, "stop callin' me 'old chap.'"

Brian nods seriously. "Of course."

"Second," Logan continues, "you could help with the dining room preparations, I guess. We're setting up for the rehearsal dinner in there and I ain't had time to even think about setting the table and making sure we've got enough silverware for the wedding tomorrow."

Brian salutes. It should look stupid, but he pulls it off flawlessly. "I shall do it immediately!"

"Yeah, okay, bub," Logan says. "And if you see Chuck in there, tell him I'm lookin' for him." He waves Brian off to the kitchens and moves onto the next disaster looming on the horizon.

Actually, it's just Bobby's garlands, but it _looks_ like a disaster.

000

Rogue isn't exactly sure why she is in New Orleans, but there are worse places she could be, probably. At least this time she's been awake for the whole trip.

Remy, of course, is perfectly at home and utterly delighted with himself.

"Remy, what are we doing here?" she asks. He's towing her through the busy streets, gloved hands clasped tightly. She's sweating in her layers. Remy looks stupidly comfortable, despite the trench coat.

"Caterin'," says Remy absentmindedly. He looks like he's searching for something in the crowd. Rogue can't see anything but legumes.

"Is this a farmer's market?" she asks incredulously. Not that Remy knowing about farmer's markets is surprising. What is surprising is that they're in one. In New Orleans.

On the night of the rehearsal dinner.

Which is in New York.

"Remy," she says.

"Found it," Remy says, and pulls her down the street.

"Hold on! I gotta call Logan," she pants. Remy slows down and points out a payphone.

"Way ahead of you, _chere_ ," he says.

000

Three hours before the rehearsal dinner is due to start, Wade is on the roof.

Still.

Betsy finds him at 5:30, staring into space.

Literally, staring up into the sun. Well, squinting.

"Wade, why are you still up here?" she says exasperatedly. "We've been looking for you for hours!"

"Hey, honey bear," he says instead of answering. Betsy puts her hands on her hips.

"Don't think I don't notice when you do that," she says. "Cutesy nicknames don't get you out of answering my questions. Why are you sitting up here? Brian wants to see you."

"We've met before," Wade says.

"It's been a year or more!" Betsy exclaims. "Come on, Wade, please. Please help me make this one thing go right. Everything is really hectic right now, but we don't have to fall apart just because the wedding is driving everyone crazy."

"I've been there," Wade comments cheerfully. "It's pretty cool."

"Wade," says Betsy, "please come down."

"Betsy," says Wade, "my darling, my sweet, honey bear, sugar pie. Snookums. I think I'll stay here."

The following events all happen at approximately the same time:

Betsy drags Wade off the roof and they have a knockdown drag-out fight, complete with screaming and psychic katana; Rogue calls Logan to tell him that she and Remy are in New Orleans; Brian walks in on the fight between Betsy and Wade and sees Wade's scars for the first time; and Charles Xavier rolls his wheelchair into a sea of flowers and promptly gets stuck.

"You're where?" Logan shouts into the phone.

"Well, this is slightly inconvenient," the Professor says.

"Those are new," says Brian. Betsy, despite the fact that she wanted to kill Wade a second ago, looks like she's about to punch her brother in the face. Wade just shrugs.

"Narrative ignorance," he says. "The author didn't know about my scars when she first started writing about me." He glances at Betsy. "Wasn't there something we were doing?" he asks.

Betsy glares. "The wedding is off!" she repeats, and storms away.

"Oh yeah," Wade says weakly. "That."

Logan hangs up the phone with a growled, "You and me ain't finished with this, Stripes!" and hurries over to where Wade is slumped against the wall looking up at the ceiling. "What was that?" Logan yells. "What just happened?"

Wade has a strange look on his face. This isn't unusual, so Logan is going to ignore it until something informs him that it is in some way relevant. "Betsy called off the wedding," he says.

"No," says Logan.

"Uh," says Kurt, who is hovering behind Logan like the chosen sacrifice. Probably they all picked him to have to stand within arm's reach and he's expecting to die. Logan can only assume what kind of crazy ideas go on in these youngster's heads.

Logan says, very calmly, "No, she is not calling off the wedding. That is not happening."

"Uh," Kurt says, urgently.

"Am I a difficult person?" Wade asks Brian, mournfully.

"Uh," says Brian.

"I don't mean to be," Wade continues. "Well, okay, yeah sometimes I do. But I thought she _liked_ that about me!"

"Betsy does love a challenge," Brian says cautiously. Wade gives him a withering look.

"Shut up. God, who even _are_ you?" he says snidely. "I'd swear the author had never heard of you before."

Brian is silent for a moment, trying to parse through Wade's particular brand of logic. "You mean… God?" he hazards after a beat. Wade has already moved on.

"How can I win her back, Jimmy?" he whines directly into Logan's ear. Logan is showing remarkable restraint in the face of Wade's recent heartbreak, in that he is not forcibly removing every bodily apparatus that allows Wade to make sounds at all.

"First of all," he says, shoving Wade into Brian, "you're going to stop lurking on the roof." Brian catches Wade before he can hit the floor, stands him back up, and brushes imaginary dust off of his shoulders.

Wade catches Logan's eye and they have a rare instance of shared thoughts: Brian is terribly nice.

Emphasis on _terrible_.

Logan is a pretty firm believer in the idea that people this nice are probably hiding something. Take Chuck for example. He's the nicest person Logan knows, and when he first brought Logan in from the literal frozen wasteland, he had been extremely nice.

And it turned out that he was hiding a mansion full of mutant children and somehow Logan ended up as one of the teachers.

Nice people are sneaky.

Wade's experiences with nice people are varied and few in nature. He gives Brian a few extra feet of space in case he turns into a brain-melting alien all of a sudden.

"What you're going to do," says Logan, "is go after Betsy and apologize to her."

Wade's face immediately lights up like Logan just solved every problem ever. This is more pressure than Logan thinks he deserves this early in the evening. They haven't even gotten to dinner yet.

"Will that work?" Wade asks hopefully.

Brian swoops in before Logan has to commit homicide, which, point for the Brit. "Of course it will, old chap," he soothes. "Betsy is very understanding."

That would not have been Logan's word choice, but whatever.

Wade goes after Betsy, who has disappeared in true psychic fashion, and Logan tries to call Rogue back to fix _that_ problem.

She doesn't answer her phone. Remy doesn't answer his. Logan's contacts in New Orleans answer, but they haven't seen hide or hair of either of them. And Rogue's hair isn't easy to miss.

Logan thinks calm thoughts.

"Well," he says to Brian, who is standing at attention and letting Jubilee and Amara admire his muscles with good nature. "Let's see what you did with the table, I guess."

000

"Remy," says Rogue, dangerously, knee deep in a swamp and ten seconds away from a Bless Your Heart of vicious proportions.

" _Chere_?" Remy says.

"Your idea of caterin' leaves somethin' to be desired."

"Such as?" he asks, affronted. There is sunshine (sort of), fresh water (debatable), and delicious food is everywhere around them. Remy doesn't see how anything is lacking about the food situation.

Once they catch it.

"If an alligator eats me," Rogue threatens pleasantly, "then you're gonna be Betsy's maid of honor."

Remy considers this while sloshing bayou through his hands. "Fair," he says.

* * *

 **A/N: Chapter five still isn't done guys keep your fingers crossed that I finish in the next 2 weeks.**

 **Next Chapter: The photographer challenges Piotr for Kitty's hand, Betsy's brother challenges Wade to a Bonding Session, and pretty much everything is a challenge for Logan at this point.**


	4. Part IV

**Disclaimer: "Yeah, it's going to save Elizabeth." –Captain Jack Sparrow**

 **A/N: What are updating schedules anyway?**

* * *

 **Part IV: Logan Howlett and the Rehearsal Dinner Crisis**

* * *

Piotr scowls at the wedding photographer.

The wedding photographer, for his part, does not appear to notice this. Piotr is slightly insulted. He's gotten used to people noticing when he is upset.

When you are a six foot six inch man who can turn into solid steel, most people tend to pay attention when you scowl at them. Piotr hasn't always been happy about this, since he is by nature a very gentle person, but now he's wishing that this buffoon would look over and fear him.

He feels like he should do some kind of penance for thinking that, because Piotr is a very nice person. Usually.

"Kitty," the photographer says, "would you come stand by the window over here, please? I need to check the lighting in here."

"Sure," Kitty chirps agreeably. Piotr maybe melts a little. She is so sweet.

Kitty turns by the window and the light catches her face just right. The artist in Piotr gasps in delight. Luckily, Piotr does not actually make this sound, because breathy sighs over lighting are for _nerds_.

Piotr is thankful that Remy ran off to Louisiana again, actually. Remy would be insufferable right about now.

"Great, Kitty!" The photographer beams. "You're a natural!"

Kitty laughs. "I'm just standing here!"

"And you're doing a great job of it!" The photographer winks.

It's the wink that does it. Piotr is striding across the room before he realizes he's doing it.

"Katya," he says. Kitty tilts her head back to look at him, her face breaking into a sunny smile when she sees him. He can't help smiling back.

"Betsy is looking for you," he blurts out. This is a lie, but Piotr couldn't think of anything more truthful or plausible at the moment.

"Oh!" Kitty says. "Sorry," she says to the photographer. "Got to go take care of our special girl!" Kitty is sort of like everyone's grandmother sometimes. She's been calling Betsy "our special girl" ever since she found out that the wedding is going to be held at the Institute. She pats Piotr's arm as she walks by and angels pop out of the ceiling and burst into song.

Or not really, but almost.

The photographer opens his mouth, probably to be smug in Piotr's general direction, but Piotr cuts him off.

"Listen," he says, as Russian as possible. It's very Russian. "Katya is very nice girl."

"Kitty?" the photographer asks. "Yeah, she's great."

"Good," Piotr nods. "We are agreed. You will not bother her."

The photographer laughs. "Uh, I'm not bothering her. She's helping me help you guys with this wedding."

Piotr narrows his eyes to achieve the maximum effect of steely blue eyes. That's a lot of steel blue. Piotr is very effective.

"Just so it stays that way," he says. "I would not like to have to bend you upside down and grind forehead into sidewalk."

The photographer stares, nonplussed. "Uh, what?" he says.

Piotr blinks innocently. "What? Is not good English? What I say?"

"Uh, that you were going to grind me into the sidewalk?"

"Ah. No. Cultural misunderstanding," Piotr says, straight-faced. "Wrong words, I apologize."

"No worries, man," the photographer says, but he gives Piotr an uneasy look and doesn't say anything to Kitty when she comes back, puzzled, to tell Piotr that she's pretty sure that Logan is with Betsy now, and is Piotr sure she wanted Kitty?"

"Maybe my mistake, Katya," he admits shamelessly. "My English, you know."

Remy would not fall for this, but Remy, luckily, is not here. Kitty doesn't look convinced, but she doesn't call him on it, so Piotr offers the sulking photographer his most coolly pleasant grin and goes off to call Remy.

000

It's not that Rogue isn't having a good time. She is. She is having a very good time, and don't let the expression on her face fool you.

It's just that when Remy had said "Come help me with the catering," she had thought he meant "help make phone calls," or "help argue with snobby people," not "come hunt crawdads in an alligator infested swamp with me."

"It's not Remy's fault y' didn't think of all the possibilities," he says. His pants are rolled up to his knees, and he's barefoot and shirtless. His hair is held out of his eyes by a soaking wet bandana.

This is true. Rogue did not, in fact, think of all the possibilities, but she can't say she isn't pleased with this particular outcome.

000

It is 6:30 in the evening, the rehearsal is starting in half an hour, the maid of honor is missing, and the bride still hasn't come out of her room.

Wade is sitting on the floor outside of Betsy and Jean's door when Logan finds him. His knees are pulled up to his chest and he's in the middle of reciting the most awful poem Logan has ever heard.

"And your hair is like peonies, your skin like an elephant's tusks–"

"What the heck, Wade?" Logan isn't sure he actually wants to know but the current state of affairs can't stand, so he has to ask.

"Ivory," Wade replies, like that explains anything, and then goes back to caterwauling at Betsy's door.

"How is she supposed to forgive you when you're making sounds like that?" Logan asks, leaning against the wall next to Wade.

Wade finishes his stanza and slams his head back into the wall. Logan winces; even though it won't hurt Wade, it's still hard to watch him do something that would give anyone else a concussion.

Wade bangs his head one more time for good measure. He jerks away from the wall in surprise when an answering bang comes from the other side.

"Stop hitting your head!" Betsy yells from inside the room.

Wade turns wide eyes to Logan. "She does care!" he says. Logan rolls his eyes.

"Of course she does," he growls. "Don't be stupid." He reaches over Wade's head to knock on the door. "Betsy?" he says. "It's Logan."

"Go away," Betsy calls.

"Nope," says Logan. "Don't worry, I won't let Wade in." He opens the door. It isn't locked. Wade doesn't move from his position on the floor, but he does give Logan the most pitiful look he can muster.

"Betsy?" Logan says, closing the door behind him. She's sitting in the middle of the bed, arms crossed over her chest. Her purple hair looks frizzy, like she stuck her finger in an electric socket.

Logan understands. Talking to Wade does sometimes feel like getting struck by lightning.

"What is the problem here?" he asks wearily, crossing his arms. It's scarier when Logan does it. Betsy huffs and looks away.

"He's just so disconnected sometimes," she says. "He pretends that nothing bothers him, nothing matters to him, and he _won't talk to me_!"

"The scars?" Logan guesses.

"Anything!" Betsy flings out one hand to gesture at the door. "He can't be serious for even a second, lately."

Logan is regretting his non-agreement to be Wade's best man even more now that he has to act as some kind of relationship negotiator. "Try seeing from his point of view," he starts half-heartedly, not really sure if that's the right direction to go.

"Logan, we're not having a difference of opinion here, we're having a breakdown of communication!"

Logan throws up his hands. "Fine!" he hollers. "Whatever. You know, Wade is nervous, okay, kiddo? He's nervous about getting married and he's nervous about what your lives will be like when you're married and he's nervous about whether or not any ninja are going to show up and crash the wedding at the last minute. The only thing he's sure about right now is that he's _stupidly_ in love with you, so maybe if you two could get your crap together, you'll both be able to figure out what's the most important thing going on here."

He turns around and leaves the room. Wade stares up at him in astonishment as he passes, mouth hanging open.

"Wade?" Logan hears Betsy say quietly.

"Yeah?" Wade answers, not-quietly.

"You want to come in?"

Logan smirks to himself as he clomps down the stairs.

One disaster down…

000

Brian wanders through the mansion looking for Logan. He feels a bit at a loss with Betsy's attention occupied and his various young admirers dispersed to their own business.

Also, he may be slightly lost. Physically.

"Hello?" he tries, certain that with mutants everywhere, someone will hear him. If they do, however, they're ignoring him, because nobody answers.

"Right," he says. "Stiff upper lip." He walks down three different hallways that all look exactly the same.

It's with some relief that he realizes the corridor he's currently in looks familiar. "Ah," he says. "At last."

He pulls open the nearest door and nearly drowns in the load of flowers that tumbles out.

"Well," he says. "I suppose asking my prospective brother-in-law if he wished to try and get to know each other better was a mistake."

After the meltdown with Betsy, Brian had tried to suggest some methods of reconciling the two of them, but Wade had just fallen deeper and deeper into melancholy, upon which Brian had suggested that they try imbibing some liquid courage. Unfortunately, drinking with a mutant of Wade's constitution hardly gave Brian a sporting chance, and he was forced to drop out early.

Brian had then challenged Wade to a test of skill, a boxing match to release some tension. Wade had seemed a little happier at the prospect, but Logan had shut it down quickly.

"No," he'd said. "He'll knock your lights out, kid."

Brian can only assume that this statement was addressed to himself, incorrect as it may be. Brian Braddock is more than capable of holding his own, despite his good looks and gentle nature.

After that, Logan had told Brian to find something to entertain himself until they could solve the Betsy/Wade crisis. Brian, not finding the crisis to be all that alarming, since he had grown up with Betsy and knew exactly how extreme her mood swings could be, had decided to explore the mansion.

This is backfiring now.

He offers himself a consoling smile in the hall mirror and raises his chin. "Right ho! On again!"

000

Logan is annoyed, which is very normal, because he can't find Brian Braddock, which isn't. The man has been underfoot since he got here, and all of a sudden he's just gone?

Logan is not very impressed with the level of competence he's receiving from his wedding prep team.

"Have you seen that alliterative nightmare?" he asks Kurt. Brian Braddock, Betsy's brother, is too much for anyone to live with, in Logan's opinion.

"Nope," says Kurt, and teleports away before Jean can catch him. She's been after him for suit fittings all day.

Jean huffs in frustration. "No," she says before Logan can ask. "I haven't seen Brian. Or Kitty," she adds venomously, "or Rogue, or _Scott_."

Logan chooses not to comment on the lack of Scott. It's just wiser for everyone.

Kitty, though.

"I'll bet that _photographer_ is with her." Logan says "photographer" the same way most people say "mobster," or "door-to-door salesman."

"Probably," Jean says darkly. "We're starting at seven," she adds, "regardless of whether or not everyone is here." She stomps away in a way that would be more impressive if she wasn't wearing strappy pink pumps.

Logan isn't actually sure that those shoes are called pumps, but he doesn't know the name of any other kind of women's shoes besides stilettos.

Chuck rolls up silently and says, "Logan." Logan jumps about a mile in the air and then turns the air bluish-green with swearing. Chuck waits him out patiently. When he's finished, Chuck says, "Shouldn't you be getting dressed?"

Sometimes, Logan suspects that Xavier actually sends his mind off to Scotland to chat with Moira McTaggert. That's the only explanation for how he can be so calm all the time.

"Yes," Logan growls. "But I can't find Braddock, and Marty McInmate is off somewhere with Kitty, so I don't have the time."

"Hmm," says Chuck. "May I presume that 'Marty McInmate' is our wedding photographer?"

"He's been to prison," Logan insists.

"Based on his tattoos?" Chuck says reprovingly. "Logan, we do not judge people based on their physical appearance."

Logan, who does judge people based on their physical appearance, though not necessarily in the same way most people do, snorts. "I'm not," he says. "I'm judging him based on his smell."

"Logan."

"He smells like bell peppers."

"Logan."

"And industrial strength soap," Logan continues smugly.

Chuck sighs and closes his eyes. "And your conclusion is?" he asks.

Logan leans forward and nods sagely. "Prison," he says.

Chuck sighs again, as if Logan is being unreasonable for not wanting Kitty to bring _strangers_ with _cameras_ to their mansion home full of _teenagers with mutant powers_ that sometimes manifest in physical ways that they may feel slightly insecure about.

"Oh," Chuck's face softens and his smile is warm enough to toast a marshmallow.

Logan scowls. "Stay out of my head, Chuck," he grumbles.

"Of course," his friend says, still smiling as he wheels away. Logan rubs both hands down his face and goes looking for Kitty.

He tries a few rooms and even a couple of closets, just in case. He's been living with teenagers for a long time now. He knows what's up.

The second closet door he opens spills an entire floral shop on his head.

"KURT!"

000

Betsy holds Wade's hand the same way she would hold a time bomb: with expectation of eventual explosion but a secret little thrill all the same.

"I can't believe we're getting married," Wade says gleefully. They're walking down to their rehearsal together, though Wade will leave her outside the doors to the ballroom, or whatever is the actual name of the huge space Xavier is letting them use.

Betsy skips a little, enjoying the way her skirt swishes around her thighs. It's not her wedding dress she's wearing, obviously, but the frothy black material of the miniskirt is so different from her usual attire that she feels almost as dressed up. Decidedly not fancy. Being a model means wearing thousands of different clothes every week, some of them hideous, some of them gorgeous, all of them fancy, fancy, fancy.

Rogue picked out the wedding rehearsal clothes, and Betsy has never been more grateful. She looks great in black.

Jean had been horrified, but Betsy had reminded her that the actual wedding would be different, of course, and that had pacified her. Mostly.

Betsy steals a glance at her fiancé, who is skipping along next to her and swinging her arm. If she looks good in black, then Wade looks _delicious_.

She'll have to thank Rogue all over again when she gets back. After she yells at her for leaving in the first place.

"Do you want me to wear the image generator tomorrow?" Wade asks, suddenly thoughtful. Betsy blinks in surprise. The thought has literally never crossed her mind.

"Of course not," she says. "I'm marrying _you_ , not a mask."

"Sometimes," says Wade, "I _am_ the mask."

"Well tomorrow," says Betsy, "you're not."

He doesn't answer out loud, but he kisses her fingers and whispers to them that they're sweeter than a bee's knees, so she thinks that he's pleased.

He leaves her at the door and walks down to the end of the aisle by himself. Logan is standing next to Xavier. Nick Fury is nowhere in sight. This is not unexpected. Wade refuses to select a second groomsman just in case, insisting that Nick will show up "in the nick of time," a declaration that had caused about ten minutes of outright giggling from both Wade and Logan, though the latter will deny it to his dying day. A considerably long time, that.

Outside the doors, half of the mansion's inhabitants stand in a little crowd, not sure if they're actually needed for this part of the whole thing, but willing to wait around and find out. Jubilee, Tabby, and Amara are comparing makeup. Piotr chats with Kurt and Bobby while dealing death glares to the photographer, who is snapping shots of Jean fussing over Betsy's hair and is nowhere near Kitty at all. Betsy allows this with grace. Jean is antsy, understandably.

"Rogue will be back by tomorrow," Betsy tells her. Jean sighs.

"I believe that," she says, disbelievingly. "It's just that she left in the first place!"

"Remy is catering the wedding," Betsy muses. Jean throws up her hands.

"So he had to take the maid of honor to Louisiana on the eve of the wedding?" she hollers.

"Remy is a free spirit," Betsy says placidly. Jean opens her mouth to comment, but then Kitty opens the doors and says, "Okay!"

Ray is playing the piano. He's very good at it, which surprised everyone except Logan, who wishes everyone in this house would stop confiding in him.

Jean walks out first, tall and stately in her black business-casual. It's calf-length, nearly skintight. Scott has reappeared just in time to swoon as she walks by him. He's arranging flowers around the chairs.

"Hey, Sparky!" Logan yells.

"What?" she yells back. Ray plays louder.

"Pretend to be Stripes!"

Jubilee marches out, head-to-toe dressed like a cat burglar, except for the bright pink sunglasses perched on her head. Logan chooses not to comment.

"You have to walk slower," Kitty says to her. "Match the music. We're practicing timing, for goodness' sake!"

Jubilee slows to a snail crawl and Ray smashes the piano keys.

"COME ON," he yells. Electricity crackles around his hands.

"No," says Logan.

Jubilee throws a firecracker at Ray's head anyway.

Ray howls and Jubilee screeches as they trade sparks and electric shocks, dodging each other's attacks.

Betsy yells, sticking her head inside the room. "Hey! Cut it out!"

They do not cut it out.

Kitty storms over and shoves Ray against the piano. It skids across the floor and leaves scuff marks on the wood. Xavier closes his eyes and sighs a little bit. Logan is not sympathetic at all.

"This is your own fault," he tells the professor. "You shouldn't expect to have nice things when you have this many kids."

"They aren't my children, Logan," Chuck says implacably. Logan snorts.

"Sure," he says.

"I'm gonna burn that stupid hair right off your scalp!" Jubilee shouts.

"No you're not!" Scott and Jean swoop down, tag-teaming like pros. They hustle Jubilee off to the side while Kitty wrangles Ray.

Logan looks away from the disaster and catches sight of Definitely-Learned-Photography-In-Prison-Rehabilitation gazing in awe at Kitty, who is, Logan admits, proving to be more competent than Logan had expected.

It's not that Logan doesn't think Kitty is capable, it's more that he usually expects her to join in with whatever flailing is going on, just because she enjoys that sort of thing.

Logan narrows his eyes and growls quietly under his breath. Wade gives him a bored look.

"What?" he asks. He's mostly undisturbed by the chaos, which isn't unexpected. There isn't a whole lot in the universe that will disturb Wade Wilson.

"I don't like that photographer," Logan growls.

"You want me to deal with him?" Wade offers. Logan allows himself to briefly consider it, even though he knows that Wade "dealing" with someone usually involves dismemberment. He catches Chuck's disapproving glance and sighs.

"Nah," he says regretfully. "Thanks anyway," he adds, because it doesn't hurt to express gratitude, and Logan is very mannerly, okay.

He thinks Chuck might be laughing at him a little bit, but that's alright. Logan has more important things to deal with.

"Hey, bub!" he snarls, stalking down the aisle. Betsy is sitting in one of the audience chairs, arms crossed over her chest and sighing pointedly. She appears to have given up on regrouping the rehearsal for the moment.

"Bub," Logan says again, because I-Keep-My-Teeth-This-White-To-Cover-Up-My-Dark-Past doesn't seem to realize that Logan is talking to him. He adds a snarl for good measure and the thug finally looks up.

"Hmm?" he says.

Logan has had many responses to his snarling and his claws and his general Loganness, but "Hmm," has never been one of them. It throws him for a moment.

"Stop starin'," he says.

"Oh, I wasn't staring because of the mutations," the photographer says earnestly. "I have a cousin who's a mutant."

Logan gives him his best unimpressed look. Mr. Brightside doesn't seem to notice.

"Stop starin' at Kitty," Logan clarifies, since apparently this moron can't take a hint. The photographer has the gall to pretend to look surprised. Logan isn't interested.

"I'm serious," he growls. "Leave her alone. Don't stare at her. Don't talk to her. If you even _think_ about kidnappin' her and takin' her to Louisiana on a train, I'll make you wear your _own_ guts for garters. _And I will know._ There're three telepaths in this mansion right now. There are eyes everywhere. Got it, _bub_?"

My-Muscle-Index-Is-Higher-Than-My-IQ nods vigorously, properly terrified. Logan nods shortly in satisfaction and stomps away. This rehearsal is clearly a lost cause for the moment, so he's going to find a quiet place to call Storm and get her help on figuring out a way to salvage this mess. Why she had to go and volunteer to go to the International Mutant Conference this week anyway was beyond him.

He yanks on the door to the storage closet off the ballroom and definitely does _not_ yelp in surprise when he is instantly buried under an avalanche of flowers.

"KURT!"

* * *

 **A/N: If you want to know what my version of Brian Braddock is like, picture Richard Gansey III from _The Raven Boys_ but with the muscles of Captain America.**

 **Next Chapter: The Wedding**


	5. Part V

**Disclaimer: "You know, Lizzie, I happen to be captain of a ship. And, as captain, I could perform... a mar-i-age. Right here, on this deck, right now." –Captain Jack Sparrow**

 **A/N: This took such a long time I am so sorry. This is why I usually completely finish things before I post them.**

 **Dark Lord of the X-Men, at last, it is finished. I hope you enjoyed it.**

* * *

 **Part V: Logan Howlett and the Wedding (Ninjas)**

* * *

The Morning After the Rehearsal Dinner (also known as: The Wedding Day) is well-documented as being hectic, painful, and desperately overwhelming.

And that's without mutants.

"My head," Jean whines pathetically. Scott rubs her shoulders and gives her his orange juice. Logan is frying bacon and eggs at the stove, the only thing any of them are getting to eat, because he doesn't have time for anything else and if they want something different they can make it themselves.

Brian is sitting at the kitchen counter with a cup of tea and having a chat with the Professor, who looks like he spent the night in blissful peace and quiet which is not how Logan's night went at all.

After the disaster that was their attempt at rehearsing, Betsy had mostly given up, made sure the people actually in the wedding knew where they were supposed to stand, and left the timing of their walking up to chance, God, and the unfeeling universe. Between the three of them, she had told Logan, they were probably covered.

And then it was dinner time.

Logan stirs the eggs a little more aggressively. They scramble resentfully.

The dinner had been a disaster, mostly because all of the cooking had been left up to Logan, who had been so distracted by all of the incredibly stupid problems that everyone else was having. The casserole had burned.

Logan would have eaten it anyway, because Waste Not, but Jean wouldn't let him.

"Logan," she'd said, laying her hand on his arm and looking down into his eyes, earnest as only Jean Grey could be, "don't punish yourself. It's okay. We'll order pizza."

Since that was what Logan had originally wanted to do for the rehearsal dinner in the first place, he wasn't exactly opposed to the idea. He was just a little concerned about delivery.

"I'll go pick up the pizzas," Kitty had volunteered. "I can give you a ride to the studio to pick up the equipment you need for tomorrow," she offered the photographer.

Logan had agreed to this, surprising every single person in the room, and sent them off to collect the Professor's credit card and the keys to the van.

"What was that?" Kurt had exclaimed, dramatically pointing to the door. Piotr just gave Logan a wounded look and slunk off to sit in his place at the table.

"What was what?" Logan had replied smugly. Bobby had rolled his eyes.

"You've been lurking and all," he waved, supposedly encompassing Logan's general… Loganness, "Growly McGruffson ever since that guy showed up, and now we're supposed to believe that you're okay with Kitty going off alone with him?"

"I was going to threaten him," Wade whined.

"What gives?" Bobby complained.

Logan had smirked. "It's Kitty," he'd said. "In a car. Behind the wheel."

Understanding had dawned like a sluggish summer morning. "Ooooooh," Kurt and Bobby had said together.

"He'll either be traumatized and want to get as far away from her as possible when he comes back," Logan had shrugged, "or he won't come back at all. Either one works for me."

"Logan!" Jean had scolded, but she was fighting a smile.

And then Kitty and I-Got-My-Muscles-From-Prison-Workouts had come back, in one piece, with many pieces of pizza.

And then half of the Institute got food poisoning in the middle of the night, which was both validating and terrible for Logan. Validating because this was _all the photographer's fault_ and terrible because Logan wasn't affected, so he had to take care of vomiting teenagers.

And now he's cooking bacon. Which nobody is going to eat.

Except Kurt, bless him. He teleports into the kitchen, startling Brian into spilling hot tea all the way down his front, and grabs nearly the entire platter of bacon and eggs before teleporting out again.

The professor gives Brian a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "Would someone please fetch a towel for Mr. Braddock?" he says.

Brian forces a smile and stands, gingerly. "No, don't trouble yourselves." Tabby, Amara, and Bobby give him bleary-eyed looks that indicate that they have no intention of troubling themselves for anyone at the moment. Jean is still clutching her head.

Brian turns a pathetic look on Logan, who does not notice, and then starts to leave the room to change his shirt. Logan dishes up the next batch of eggs and bacon as grumpily as he can.

"LOOK AT MY EYE!"

Brian, not quite out the door, jumps and backs up. Ray storms into the kitchen, pointing at his garishly colored, swollen eye.

"LOOK AT THIS!" he yells.

"Don't shout, Ray," Scott says mildly, pressing an icepack to Jean's forehead. Ray's face goes as purple as his eye.

"Jubilee! Where is she?" he turns on Tabby and Amara, who watch him with the kind of frank, unimpressed stares that only teenage girls can achieve.

"Asleep," Tabby drawls finally.

Ray turns on his heel, presumably to fly up to Jubilee's room and demand recompense for his black eye. Brian steps in front of him.

"Oh!" he says sympathetically. "Come here, young man, sit down. I'll get you a steak for that eye." He settles Ray at the table and bustles off to the freezer in the pantry, tea-soaked shirt completely forgotten.

"What?" Ray asks the room, bewildered.

Logan shakes his head. "You've been Braddocked," he says.

After the fight at rehearsal, everyone had gone off to lick their wounds or "have some quiet time" as the Professor put it. Unfortunately, with tensions running high (and bruises starting to form), it wasn't long before more altercations began. Within minutes, Jubilee and Ray had to be dragged away from each other, scratching and biting, and seven other fights had broken out all over the mansion.

The psychic backlash from this was staggering. Jean had selflessly thrown shields over the other two telepaths in the mansion, blocking any of the tension from reaching Betsy and Xavier. And now Jean is moaning and letting Scott dab peppermint oil on her forehead.

"Jean, you really must learn to let others share the Telepathic Burden sometimes," the professor scolds mildly. Logan glances at Scott and they exchange a commiserating eye roll. Jean and Chuck talk an awful lot about "the Telepathic Burden" of the mansion, which they of course accept and carry most willingly. Neither one of them ever actually explain what exactly the Telepathic Burden _is_ , but as near as Logan can figure, it involves a lot of knowing everyone's secrets and ending up with a headache.

Logan can relate.

"I had to protect Betsy," Jean protests. Scott digs his thumb into the base of her neck with the particular expertise that comes from loving a telepath. Wade is good at massaging away headaches but since he's mostly the one causing them for Betsy, she doesn't often ask him to.

Chuck sighs. "Yes, I know, that was a lovely gesture, Jean. However, _you_ are now in pain and the wedding preparations are still not completed."

Jean raises her head enough to glare in the general direction of everyone else. "I'm sure everyone will help," she says, frosty as a snowflake. Nobody meets her eyes, but they all mumble some form of agreement.

Brian returns with a slab of raw red meat. "My dear," he says to Amara, "would you be so kind?" He presents the steak with a flourish. Confused, Amara puts out her hand and gently starts to melt the ice, trying not to drown it in magma. When the ice finally drips away and the steak flops in Brian's hand, he gives Amara a beaming smile and says, "Thank you kindly, dear." He doesn't notice her swoon as he turns to Ray and slaps the bloody steak onto the black eye.

Ray shrieks. "What are you doing!?"

Unruffled, Brian says, "You need to get the swelling down in that eye."

"Yeah, but we have ice for that!" Ray yelps. He squirms a little but Brian's grip is surprisingly strong.

"Settle down, young man," he scolds, shocking Ray into submission. "Young man" isn't a term often applied to himself, considering that he's generally minded to bite the head off of anyone who tries it.

Logan grins. Braddocked indeed.

The photographer stumbles into the kitchen and ruins Logan's morning.

"Whoa," he mumbles. "Rough night, right?"

Logan snarls out loud and whirls back to the stove. Kitty sticks her head down through the ceiling right above him and hisses his name.

"Logan! Psst! Logan!"

"I heard ya, Half-Pint," he says, not looking up. She gives a little growl and he can't help but smirk. "What?" he says.

"Stop being mean!" she says.

"Mean?" he asks, knowing perfectly well what she means.

"You know perfectly well what I mean!" she exclaims in a whisper.

"He's flirting with you," Logan scowls. Kitty rolls her eyes in a complete circle.

"So? I'm not going to run away and elope with him, Logan. If he wants to flirt, why not? Besides, I already have someone I–" she cuts herself off.

Logan can't stop grinning. It probably looks a little vicious but he can't help that. "Yeah?" he says.

Kitty sputters. "I didn't say anything! You can't prove anything! Just stop being mean, Logan, okay? God!" She pulls her head up through the ceiling. Logan throws some turkey bacon on the griddle and starts humming.

Well, okay, so he's just growling rhythmically, but for Logan, that's definitely humming.

Betsy, wrapped in a silky kimono, arrives in the kitchen ten minutes later and surveys the damage. Piotr has ambled in at some point and is sitting across the table from Kitty, companionably munching on turkey bacon and toast. Brian has changed his shirt –without anyone seeing him leave –and is coaxing tea into Jean in one breath and ordering Ray to keep the steak on his eye with the next. Tabby, Amara, and Bobby have all fallen back asleep, slumped over each other and the table. Kurt hangs from the chandelier, despite having been told to stop doing that at least twelve times. The photographer timidly consumes a plateful of eggs under watch of Logan's unhappy eyebrows.

"Good morning!" Betsy says brightly. "Did you all have a good night? How are you all?"

Jean's groan speaks for all of them.

"Really?" Betsy hums, stirring her coffee. "Yes, I'm doing just fine, thanks for asking."

"Morning," Wade says, strolling in and stealing the photographer's eggs, "I'm Just Fine. Where's the coffee?"

000

Remy is always very energetic, but never more so than when he's just pulled off an impossible trick. Just watching him is exhausting Rogue.

"Remind me again why we had to do this?" she asks, leaning her chin on her gloved palm. Remy practically vibrates in the seat beside her.

" _Chere_ ," he says, "you had fun, right?"

She did have fun. "Yeah," she admits. Remy grins. It's impossibly endearing.

"Then that's why," he says.

Rogue lets herself smile as the plane takes off finally, and sneaks her hand into the crook of Remy's arm where it sits on the armrest between them.

"Also," says Remy, "I don't know how to cook."

000

At a certain point, everyone starts drifting off to their various rooms to get dressed. They are all fascinated, in a slightly Schadenfreude way, in seeing what happens to Remy and Rogue when they return after being absent during the past stressful day. Daring to cross Jean's party planning is probably the bravest (and stupidest) thing anyone in the mansion has ever done, and while no one is surprised that Remy and Rogue are the first to try it, they are all somewhat interested in learning what Jean is going to do to them in retribution.

Tabby smears black eyeliner around Amara's eyes with one hand and teases her own hair into a fluffy halo with the other. Jean is building an intricate up-do of braids out of Betsy's purple hair. Betsy is projecting joy throughout the whole mansion, and normally, the Professor wouldn't allow such a thing, but due to the occasion, he simply smiles and reinforces his own mental shields.

Logan, perpetually grumpy and completely unaffected by Betsy's happiness, thanks very much, watches the Jailbird like a hawk. The nervous young man is dressed in conservative black, and has taken to hiding behind his camera whenever Logan is in the room.

Logan is rather pleased with this development.

Brian makes a sound like an extremely disgruntled wallaby into the phone. Logan glances over at him, amused. Brian has been perched on the curl at the bottom of the banister for the past ten minutes, talking on the phone with his mother. It hasn't been pleasant.

"Mum, I don't care!" he says, keeping his voice down. Betsy and Wade are both in completely different parts of the mansion, but he isn't taking chances. Neither of them needs more stress now.

"Stop it," Brian says. His perfect eyebrows furrow in concern. "Betsy is in love with him, Mother! You cannot possibly be so cruel!" He listens for a minute, angrily gnawing on his knuckle.

"Mother, of all the snobbish, unkind, purely mean spirited things you could have done!" Brian snaps. Logan nods along in approval and comes to stand next to him.

"Betsy loves you and Dad so much," Brian continues, lowering his voice a little, "and you're refusing to accept her. Oh, I know," he continues, louder, "you've always accepted 'the mutant thing'." He rolls his eyes at Logan as he includes the air quotes, one handed. "You do realize that Wade is a mutant? That many aspects of who he is come from his mutation? Mother, you barely know him, what don't you like?"

Brian listens to his mother's reply, almost a whine of protest which Logan can hear clearly through the phone. And Logan thinks that there are lots of things about Wade that take getting used to, but once you do know him, not a whole lot not to like.

"Whatever," Brian snaps, angry and scornful, and slams his cell phone shut with a decisive flick. Logan grins at him and pats him on his shoulder. It almost knocks him off the banister.

"Good job, kid," he says.

"I'm an adult," says Brian, with dignity. He's still cross legged on the banister, hair ruffled and shirt still tea-stained.

Logan smirks. "I'm more of one. Go change your shirt before Jean sees you."

000

Jean Grey considers herself to be a good person and she doesn't deserve this kind of stress. This isn't even her wedding.

Speaking of that, actually. She closes her eyes and scans the mansion for Scott, who is easily found upstairs in the bathroom, meticulously shaving. She pokes at his mind. It would be very rude to do to anyone else, but she and Scott have an Understanding.

 _Yeah?_ Scott responds to her mental prodding.

 _Why aren't_ we _getting married?_ Jean whines into his head. A telepathic whine sounds exactly like an aural one, except worse. Scott winces.

 _Um_ , he thinks.

 _Yeah_ , Jean grumps. _That's what I thought._ She pulls out of his mind before he can try being nice to her or some crap like that. The last thing she wants is for Scott to propose at their friends' wedding. Even if, she admits to herself, fluffing her hair and pursing her lips at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, it _would_ be sort of romantic. Her headache has mostly dissipated by now, banished by the power of Tylenol and Extreme Meditation.

She flips her hair one last time and then exits the bathroom into catastrophe. Half of the mansion is apparently gathered in the hallway, wedding ready and waiting for her to give them something to do. There's just one problem.

" _Why is everyone wearing black?_ "

Her screech rattles the window panes and nobody seems to have a good answer to the question.

"The wedding is in _three_ hours! _How_ are you _all_ dressed like this?" She realizes something terrible. "Oh my god. This is my fault! I vetted all of your clothes! And I missed this!"

"It's not that big a deal, Jean," Kurt tries. Jean turns on him like he's her partner in a bank robbery gone wrong.

"Yes, it is, Kurt! It is a very big deal! We _cannot_ look like a funeral procession at Betsy's _wedding_!"

Kurt doesn't really see why not. If there's one thing they've all learned since becoming teenage superheroes, it's that they all look fantastic in black. He tries to say this, but Jean steamrolls right over him, pacing and waving her arms around in the air. The vases are rattling on their stands.

"Jean," Kitty says. She looks stunning in a high and tight black number and heels that give her a generous four inches. Kurt is oddly entranced by her ankles. Mostly because he's trying to figure out how she's walking in those shoes without spraining one of them.

"We have to change. _Everyone_ has to change!" Jean herself looks amazing, long dark purple gown cut in a tasteful V-neck. Betsy had chosen the color and nobody had argued, even though Rogue had told everyone else who would listen that redheads wearing purple was a level of cruelty that went beyond even the expected standards for bridesmaid torture.

"We don't have time, Jean," says Kitty, perfectly calm. She discreetly directs Amara, Tabby, Roberto, and Bobby –all dressed in immaculate black suit jackets –towards the ballroom.

"There has to be time! You all look like _ninjas_!" Jean exclaims. She's wringing her hands, but at least the vases have settled down.

"Nope," Kitty says cheerfully. "We just have to make do. It'll be okay. The other guests won't be wearing black, so as long as we don't all sit together, it'll be fine. You four," she gestures to Amara, Tabby, Roberto, and Bobby, "just hang out in here, okay? You won't be on usher duty until the guests get here, but I know you all will just wander off if I let you, so stay here, got it?"

They grumble a little, but Kitty has her Serious Business Face on, so they agree, plopping down in the back row of chairs like a squad of smartly-dressed penguins.

Kitty wrangles the rest of them around the mansion like a pro. She hunts up the guest book and makes sure there's a space cleared for dancing in the ballroom, enlisting Piotr and Kurt to shift things around to her satisfaction. Betsy floats through the upper levels of the house in serene bliss, while Wade skulks around the bottom of the mansion, loudly complaining about not being able to see Betsy until she comes down the aisle tonight.

"Who invented _that_ useless nonsense?" he exclaims passionately to Logan, who is patiently –for Logan –ignoring everything he says while simultaneously wrestling him into a tie. It's purple, matching Rogue and Jean's dresses, not that Wade notices or cares.

Brian is cheerfully bossing the photographer around the mansion, organizing shots of all of the members of the institute, including a few candid shots, such as one of Piotr reaching out to tap Kitty's nose. The look on his face is so blatantly fond and affectionate that Brian almost wants to ask Logan if Kitty needs her vision checked. If she can't see how Piotr feels about her when it is literally right in front of her nose, than there's clearly something wrong there. The photographer takes all of the pictures with minimal complaining, possibly still cowed by Logan's angry eyebrows and the forced breakfast consumption of this morning.

 _Sorry Wade_ , Logan thinks, not sorry at all, _but Brian is my new best friend_.

Then he stops and takes a moment to be horrifically disgusted, because he just referred to Wade, indirectly, as his best friend. Then he has to take another moment, because he just ranked two of his friends like a middle school girl.

He wonders if this is what getting hives feels like. Admitting to having friends is kind of like a rash, he figures. This is almost as bad as thinking of _that Cajun_ as "Remy."

Almost.

He opens the door to the second floor utility closet and takes the face full of what smells overwhelmingly of Sampaguita like the grim, tough, manly man that he is.

"KURT!"

Kurt does not respond, because despite much evidence to the contrary, he does have a sense of self-preservation. Logan plucks a few sticking flowers out of his hair and from under his shirt collar and growls.

Wade is snickering behind him. "Wow, Jimmy," he giggles. "Who knew you were such a honeybee?"

Logan gives him a blank stare.

"Aw, c'mon," Wade complains. "Bees? Attracted to flowers? Nothing?"

"Why are you wearing that mask?" Logan asks. Wade's face is covered by the familiar red and black of his Deadpool mask. He isn't sure when Wade had time to slip away and find it, but it's more likely that Wade has been carrying it around in his pocket this whole time.

"This old thing?" Wade waves his hand. "Pshaw. It's nothing. Just for old time's sake, you know?"

"You're not wearing that in the wedding," Logan informs him.

"Why not?" Wade whines.

"Because," Logan says, "Betsy says so." He thinks that should be good enough, but he has further arguments such as "she loves you, no matter what your face looks like," and "trust me, no one here will think anything of it," and "she doesn't want to marry the mask, she wants to marry _you_ ," and "we've all got scars, Wade, suck it up" prepared in case they're necessary.

Wade hesitates for a moment and then pulls the mask off with a flourish. "Happy?" he snaps.

Logan eyes him. He looks a little unhinged, but no more so than normal. "Sure," he says.

Wade wanders off, grumbling, and Logan wonders when he and Betsy will remember that they can literally communicate mind to mind. He gives it an hour at least. Betsy probably already has, but the girl needs her privacy for at least part of the day.

"AND WHERE," Jean is shouting dramatically from the ballroom, "ARE REMY AND ROGUE? HUH? ARE THEY OUT CAREENING AROUND NEW ORLEANS TOGETHER? ARE THEY MAKING OUT IN A BAYOU? WELL?"

000

It's a plane, actually. Rogue is happily kneeling up on her seat to reach Remy, having discovered a creative use for the in-flight barf bags. Remy would be kind of grossed out if he wasn't so touched by her dedication.

" _Chere_ ," he gasps out after almost suffocating in the plastic. The other passengers are beginning to look very uncomfortable. "Maybe we should cool it for a bit, _oui_?"

Rogue does not particularly look like she thinks cooling it for any amount of time is a good plan, but a quick glance around has her reluctantly agreeing and sliding down to actually sit in her seat. A nervous flight attendant approaches as soon as she's settled.

"Excuse me," she says faintly. "Um. Is there anything I can get for you? Um. It's just that. Um. You're not really –that's not exactly what that bag is supposed to be used for." She blushes the whole time she's talking and Remy won't stop grinning. Rogue huffs a sigh that fluffs her bangs up out of her eyes. She looks delightfully disheveled.

"Not unless you got any mutation inhibitors," she mutters. The flight attendant looks startled and even more anxious than before.

"N –no," she stutters. "S –sorry." She scuttles away, and Rogue scowls at Remy when he laughs.

"What's so funny," she snarls.

"Nothin'," he grins. "Just that Remy never thought _you'd_ be the one nearly gettin' us kicked off this plane 'cause you can't keep your hands to yourself."

She sticks her tongue out at him and he snatches up her gloved hand and starts pressing kisses to her palm and fingers. "Later, _chere_ ," he promises.

Rogue can live with later, she guesses.

000

It is 4:30 P.M. and the wedding is in exactly two hours. Logan has donned his tuxedo with just enough snarl to let everyone know he still isn't happy about being _in_ the wedding, and now he's going around to all of the boys and making sure they've tied their ties correctly.

Just because he didn't want to be the best man in the first place doesn't mean he isn't going to be the best one he can be, alright. Logan Howlett does not do things halfway.

He finds Ray in the ballroom by the piano, eye nicely purpled and hair a chaotic mass of static electricity as usual. At least his tie is straight. Jubilee is fussing with it.

Logan stops and eyes them both warily. "What's this," he gestures between them. They both look confused.

"Jubes is fixing my tie," Ray answers, pointing awkwardly. Jubilee pushes his hands aside and gives the tie –black, like the rest of his clothes –one last pat.

"There," she says in satisfaction. "Perfect." She snaps her gum and smoothes down her own dress, knee-length black velour that shines when rubbed the right way. Logan hates that fabric, but he's not the one wearing it, so he keeps his opinions to himself.

Well, about her dress at least. "Didn't you two try to kill each other a few hours ago?" he asks.

Ray waves a hand. "That was yesterday," he says airily. "We're fine."

"Your eye is swollen shut," Logan points out.

"Nah," he says. "It opens a little. See?" he points at his eye, which does not appear to be opened at all as far as Logan can tell.

"Right," he says skeptically.

"I don't get what the big deal is," Jubilee says impatiently. "Everyone is acting like we should hate each other because we had a fight yesterday."

Logan does not get paid enough for this. Explaining social cues to mutant teenagers is so far out of his comfort zone, it's basically Paris.

Logan did not enjoy Paris in 1944, and he certainly doesn't enjoy it now.

"You tried to murder each other yesterday," he says, trying for stern but mostly just coming out with the usual level of gruff.

Ray and Jubilee exchange mutually bewildered looks. "So?" Ray asks.

"We're best friends," Jubilee says. "Having one little fight doesn't change that." She pats Ray's arm with approximately the same force she used to punch him last night. He doesn't flinch.

"Best friends don't try to kill each other," Logan says stubbornly. Jubilee gives him an extremely unimpressed look.

"Logan, you literally pushed Wade off a roof last week."

Logan had sort of forgotten about that, oops.

"See?" Ray says, kind of obnoxiously. "It's totally normal to try to kill your best friend around here."

"We're upholding mansion tradition," Jubilee adds.

Whatever. He gives up and jabs his finger towards them. "Fine, I don't care," he lies. "But you two had better keep it together during the ceremony. You're not ruining Betsy's big day."

They both look offended that he even suggested it, but he knows his kids. He gives them another finger jab for good measure and stalks off to find Wade.

He finds the photographer instead, with Brian in tow. The latter looks very sorry for not keeping the kid out of Logan's way. The photographer mostly seems sorry to be running into Logan.

"You're still here?" Logan growls pleasantly. Well, pleasantly for him, which means that Black Fingered McGee here still has both of his arms.

 _See,_ he sort of telepathically shouts at Chuck, _it's "Black Fingered McGee" 'cause that's like a prison nickname, but "black fingered" because he's a photographer and they get the ink–_

 _Yes, Logan, I believe that I "get it," as the children say_ , Chuck patiently replies.

"Um," the photographer says. He clutches his camera to his chest like it will protect him from Logan. Brian's face is the epitome of longsuffering, which impresses Logan. He never thought he would ever meet anyone who was more longsuffering than he is, but apparently he was wrong.

He bares his teeth at the photographer and says, "Don't get any ideas, bub."

Before anyone can ask what kind of ideas Logan is forbidding, he stomps away and resumes his search for Wade. Losing the groom is probably a big No-No as far as best man duties goes.

000

Piotr is adorable and Kitty is trying very hard not to say that to his face.

"You're adorable." Whoops, maybe not hard enough.

"What?" he looks perplexed, which is even more adorable. Kitty was not prepared.

"I just mean that you look great in your suit!" she blurts out, totally smooth and not at all like she's been ogling him for the past twenty minutes.

"Oh, thank you," Piotr says, flushing and looking down at himself. "You are," he swallows hard, apparently forgetting how to speak for a second. "Stunning," he finally gets out. "Very beautiful," he tries again, though, after "stunning," he really doesn't need to.

Now they're both blushing.

"Get a room," Kurt orders, passing them with an armload of flowers that Logan had told him to "put somewhere they look nice and not in a closet again." Kitty sputters indignantly and peeks at Piotr to see his reaction. He's doing the exact same thing to her.

"Unbelievable," Kurt mutters, dropping violets everywhere.

000

Rogue and Remy blow into the Institute in a flurry of boxes and covered dishes at 5:19 P.M.

"Did you just fly in from Louisiana?" Jean shrieks. "Did you _cater the wedding_ _from Louisiana_?"

"Yes," Rogue says, as if this is a perfectly normal way to cater a wedding. All hesitations on the plane have been vanquished. Rogue is a ride-or-die kind of partner-in-crime. When she commits, she doesn't do it halfway.

"Where should Remy put this stuff?" Remy asks. He's balancing an impressive number of platters that Jean is already envisioning splattered all over the floor. She waves him past her, telekinetically steadying the lot.

"The kitchen, Remy, of course." She ushers him past, tossing over her shoulder, "Get dressed!" to Rogue.

Rogue takes the stairs three at a time and bursts into her and Kitty's room singing "Ta-daaa!" Betsy claps obligingly and shoos her toward the dressing screen, where her dress hangs off the edge.

"Yes, very nice, now hurry! Guests will be arriving any minute now!"

Rogue tosses her clothes off carelessly and slips behind the screen to wiggle into the purple monstrosity. "How's Wade?" she teases.

"Ugh!" Betsy moans, nearly flopping across the bed before remembering just in time that she really shouldn't do that in her wedding dress. "I haven't seen him all daaaaaay." She pouts at Rogue's laugh. "I'm serious!"

"Oh, all day?" Rogue calls out. "That must be terrible."

"Well," Betsy admits, "I saw him in the morning. But not since nooooon!"

Rogue emerges from behind the screen in a whirl of purple dress and ivory skin. Her long gloves cover most of her arms, enough for her to walk arm-in-arm with the best man without any danger whatsoever. Jean is thoughtful about things like that.

"Are you nervous?" Rogue asks. Her hair is all twisted up in a clip, puffing out over the top. It makes her look a little bit like a rooster, but Betsy kindly does not say this. She considers her answer to the question.

"Not exactly," she says. "I'm just a bit worried that I'll forget what I'm going to say."

"I didn't mean the wedding," Rogue says. "What about _being married_?"

Betsy shrugs. Her smile is maybe a _little_ bit sappy. "I already feel married," she says, "so I'm not nervous about that at all."

"Barf," says Rogue, but she smiles when she says it.

000

At six o'clock, Nick Fury arrives with a stream of guests, dressed in a tuxedo, scowl firmly fixed in place, and swipes the purple bowtie out of Logan's hand. Logan smirks, says, "Cuttin' it kinda close, Nicholas."

Fury ties the bow expertly and gives Logan a blood-chilling look. Logan, blood still comfortably lukewarm, nods approvingly. "Betsy will be happy," he says, and just like that, Fury's scowl melts into… well, a softer version of itself.

"Aren't we supposed to be somewhere?" he grumbles.

Most of the guests are mutants, mercenaries, and other miscellaneous characters that Betsy and Wade count among their varied friend groups. But there are also models from Betsy's agency, bitingly friendly and inadvertently crushing the self-esteem of all of the teenagers in the crowd with every strut up and down the aisle. Brian greets a few unidentified specimens that Logan assumes are some of the more "normal" people that Betsy is still friends with. It has to be Betsy, because the only "normal" friend Wade has is an old blind lady with a bad attitude, and Blind Al is already sitting in the front row next to Ororo, "so I can see."

Fury and Logan take their places next to Wade, who is bouncing up and down on his toes like a five year old. "When is she coming?" he whines to Logan.

Patiently, Logan replies, "Stop asking me that, for the love of Pete! She'll be here when she gets here!" Wade gives him an injured look and scoots away a little bit. Logan rolls his eyes. He's not sorry for snapping, Wade is annoying and he deserves it.

Twenty seconds later, Logan says gruffly, "Sorry." And regrets it immediately, because Wade is hugging him joyfully and… sniffing his neck?

"Get off," he says, shoving. Wade moves off, cackling. Next to Logan, Fury snorts a laugh. Logan grits his teeth.

"He's dead once we're done here," he mutters.

"Sure," Fury drawls. "Tell that to Betsy, I dare you."

Kitty bounces up a few minutes later and gives them all a quelling look. "Are we ready?" she asks.

Logan checks. Guests are here. Flowers arranged. Ushers finished seating people. Reception catered and _that Cajun_ dressed like an undertaker sliding into his seat between Piotr and Jubilee. Ray on the piano, refusing to cover his black eye, but Logan has decided not to care about that. Chuck settled, Jean ready for the signal to come down, Brian waiting at the door to walk Betsy down the aisle. Cell Block Lame-O is poised at the perfect angle to take pictures and video, and yes, Logan is aware that that last nickname is not quite up to par. Forgive the author, she had a long night.

 _What author?_ He wonders. _Why did I just think that? This is Wade's fault._

Moving on, he gives Kitty a nod. "We're good," he tells her.

She smiles brightly and gives him a thumbs-up. "Great!" she whisper-shouts. "Let's do this then!"

Logan calls her back when she's halfway down the aisle. "Wait!" She scurries back.

"What?"

"Where's the priest?"

She stares at him in horror. "What?" she asks.

"Justice of the peace?" he tries. Her eyes get even wider. "Notary of the public?" he suggests desperately.

"How did we miss that?" Kitty whispers, hands pressed to her mouth.

Seriously. They are seriously about to have to stall this wedding because they don't have someone who can perform the ceremony? How is this Logan's life?

"I'm an ordained minister," Nick Fury says calmly.

What.

Logan prides himself on not being surprised very often. He can afford that, he thinks, because he is old. He is an old man, alright, and there have to be some perks to being an old man, and Logan thinks one of them should be that it takes a lot to surprise you. That's fair, right? He's fought wars, dang it, he shouldn't have to be surprised by things.

But he is. Because Nick Fury, being an ordained minister? How the heck was he supposed to see that one coming?

"What?" he says, but Kitty is already cheering and hugging Fury, which is hilarious.

"Thank God!" she says. "Alright, so you'll do the ceremony, and Logan, you and Rogue have the rings, and it's 6:30, _finally_ , and we're going to have this wedding right _now_." With that, Kitty stomps back down the aisle as best one can stomp in four inch tall heels.

000

Ray starts playing the piano, blatantly stumbling over several notes because he can't see the music through his swollen left eye. The doors in the back of the room open and Jean starts walking sedately down the aisle. She refuses to speed up even when Ray rushes the music a little, so by the time Rogue enters, Jean is out of time and serenely about to pop a vein.

Logan is biased, of course, but the two of them are jaw-droppingly gorgeous. Between themselves, Rogue and Jean could take out a city block out of sheer presence.

That Cajun tries to breathe, sees Rogue, and immediately starts choking. Logan graciously deigns to be concerned until Piotr thumps him on the back and he catches his breath. Scott is quietly hyperventilating so loudly that Chuck is smothering his psychic signature with a cloud so thick even Logan can feel it.

Wade is practically vibrating.

Rogue reaches the altar and passes Logan with a wink. She glides up to stand next to Jean and the entire room seems to hold its breath as Ray smoothly transitions into the wedding march.

The doors open once more and the guests all rise as Betsy and Brian begin their walk down the aisle.

"Oh my god," Wade says softly. Logan agrees.

Brian's smile is so bright, it's basically LED, but Betsy outshines everyone, radiant in long, white satin. Logan glances at Wade and smirks when he sees that the Merc with the Mouth has finally been struck speechless. He and Betsy haven't taken their eyes off of each other for a second.

And then there they are, Brian taking both Wade and Betsy's hands and pressing them both to his lips before joining them together. Logan does not grimace, but he makes a mental note to remind Brian that kissing Wade's hand isn't really the best idea. Who knows where it's been?

Nick Fury clears his throat.

"Can I just say," he starts.

"No!" Betsy and Wade chime together and then immediately start giggling. Fury rolls his eye.

"I'm saying it anyway," he declares. Pauses for dramatic effect and then says, "It's about time, you two!" Rogue breaks out in laughter and the rest of the X-Men follow. Wade winks at Fury.

"Aw, you do care, Nick," he coos.

"Shut up," Fury orders. "All of y'all," he adds. The room quiets. The non-mutant guests mostly look scandalized. Logan is enjoying this way more than he had thought he would.

"Now," Fury says, "y'all are getting married today. There's lots of stuff I could say here, but you've definitely heard it before, so I'm gonna skip the boring parts and get to the part we care about. What do you want to say to each other?"

They give each other nervous looks, suddenly shy. Betsy clears her throat and says, "I'll go first." She clasps Wade's hand a little tighter and takes a deep breath. "Wade," she says. "The first time we met, I thought I was going to kill you."

"Don't you mean–"

"No, don't interrupt!" She was smiling. "You weren't going to be able to kill me, but I was afraid I would have to kill you. And then I didn't, and it turned out you had really nice eyes, and suddenly we were getting dinner. And it's been crazy, Wade. We've had some crazy times, been some crazy people. I stole that woman's body for a while. You disappeared from the franchise for years. I almost can't believe we're really here. But we are, and we're going to be together for the rest of eternity and even after that if I have any say in it. I'm _so in love with you_ ," she stressed, pulling Wade closer to her. They were standing almost nose to nose now. "I will be here when you're lost and I will search for you until you're found. I will follow where you go, and when I go, I will be dragging you behind me."

Logan is _not_ crying, but if that demon spawned photographer is taking pictures of him right now, there's going to be murder tonight.

"Anyway," Betsy wraps up, "I love you and I want you forever and now I have you forever, so I'm happy." She reaches up to dab at her eyes with her knuckle and Rogue stifles a whine of horror at the smearing of mascara.

Fury is trying hard to look unimpressed, but he's not doing great. "Wade?" he says, after clearing his throat a couple of times.

Wade's face has gone pale, like he's standing on top of a cliff and is about to throw himself over.

"Uh. Um, yeah," he stutters. Betsy squeezes his hands and he swallows. "Okay. Um. Betsy. I love you," he blurts it out and it seems to settle him, now that he's finally said it in front of everyone. "I love you more than anything in the whole world. I love you more than _chimichangas_. I love you more than killing Hydra agents. You've changed my life and I want to spend forever fighting with you, loving you, holding you, kissing you, following you–" He probably would have kept going, but Logan clears his throat somewhat pointedly and he refocuses. "The point is, everything you want from me, you've got. You've got me forever. I can't wait to call you at three in the morning to bail me out of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters and tell everyone there that you're my wife."

The room titters. Fury looks furious. Betsy looks exasperated and also like she's trying not to be charmed. Too late. Wade goes on, earnest as only Wade really can be, with his own special flavor of the emotion, "I've lived a lot of life… and died a lot of death," he adds. Logan snorts. "And I know now that I want to keep on living with you until I finally run out of lives. So, uh. Yeah, that's it, mostly. I love you."

Betsy beams at him. Brian is definitely sobbing in the front row. Logan grits his teeth and thinks angry thoughts, which is only slightly harder than usual. Yes, this is very touching, but also the cummerbund on his tuxedo is stupid and keeps sliding around his waist, so Logan is already Not Happy.

Fury says, "Now, by the power invested in me by the state of y'all-don't-get-to-know-where it's classified, I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Braddock-Wilson. Girl, just kiss him, you've been dying to all day."

They kiss for a long time. Logan darts a glance at Fury after the thirty second mark and Fury clears his throat as loudly as possible. The audience just watches in fascinated disgust. Betsy and Wade break apart with the most self-satisfied smacking sound Logan has ever heard and turn to face the crowd.

 _That Cajun_ stands up and whoops, hollering loud enough to bring the roof down, and then the rest of these heathens Logan lives with are on their feet, shouting and cheering and clapping. The other audience members get into it, and Wade and Betsy run down the aisle and out of the doors in the back to a tune of hooting and shrieking.

"If everyone would give us a few minutes, we'll have the tables set up for the reception," Kitty announces. The guests all obligingly shuffle out of their seats and Jean immediately begins telekinetically rearranging the chairs to accommodate the tables that Piotr, Scott, and Tabby roll out into the ballroom.

The guests cluster around Betsy and Wade while the X-men assemble the reception area. Remy and Rogue disappear into the kitchen with Bobby and Roberto in tow and reemerge carrying platters heaped with gumbo and jambalaya, fragrant spices wafting through the room. The _boudin_ balls are piled on a bed of dirty rice. Fresh salad and crawfish pie and _maque choux_ send heavenly smells towards the guests. Jean looks mollified.

"I suppose catering from Louisiana wasn't the worst idea," she tells Scott.

"Let's eat!" Remy calls. The guests move toward the tables and Logan surveys the crowd with a strange sense of satisfaction. This actually worked.

"Hey," a voice says from behind Logan, "this actually worked!"

Logan turns and here is–

"NICK!" Kitty squeals, bounding up to fling her arms around the neck of the young blond man wearing a dark grey and black bodysuit. "You came!"

"Couldn't miss Mum and Dad's wedding, now could I?" he replies, laughing.

"You bring Laura?" Logan asks gruffly.

"Nah," says Nicholas Braddock-Wilson, twenty-one years old, time-traveler. "She's in Japan right now. Or right then," he grins. "I'm gonna catch Uncle Kurt." He kisses Kitty's cheek and darts off.

"Don't let your parents see you!" Kitty calls after him. Logan glances to his right. Fury's eye is twitching.

"You don't want to know," Logan informs him.

"That's what I thought," Fury says.

A stir by the door draws Logan's attention. "What now?" he growls.

Mr. and Mrs. Braddock push through the crowd to meet their daughter. Wade glances over his shoulder at Logan, wide eyed as a baby deer. Logan smirks at him and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Elizabeth… honey," Mrs. Braddock starts. Betsy looks like she's about to cry for real now. Brian stands to the side looking torn between delight and anxiety.

"We're so sorry, honey," Mrs. Braddock finally says, and then Betsy is hugging her and her father is shaking Wade's hand and Brian falls into the mess of crying, happy Braddocks, and Logan has to look away before he gets feelings in his eyes.

"Come on," says Betsy, wiping her tears away delicately. Her mascara is smudging a little, but Jean will fix that in a jiffy. "Let's party." She and Wade lead her family over to the tables and the reception finally gets properly underway.

000

The ninja arrive before the cake. Logan thinks he probably should have seen this coming.

They drop down from the ceiling, embarrassingly enough, landing on the dance floor like the worst kind of disco divas. Logan catches the Professor's eye and makes sure to glare. Chuck pretends not to notice.

I told you we needed to fix the security system, Logan growls into his head. Logan's telepathic growl is almost as good as his live one. Chuck winces.

Yes, I know, Logan, but that hardly helps us right now. Let's not point fingers. Logan snarls and unsheathes his claws, pointing one specific kind of finger in Chuck's direction.

The guests have prudently scattered to the edges of the ballroom. Betsy is covering her model friends and her parents with Wade's help. Wade looks like Christmas and his birthday came at the same time.

"Chuck?" Logan growls.

"X-men, move in!" Professor Xavier orders, comfortably serene. Easy for him to be serene, Logan thinks. He's shoving ninja around with the power of his mind, not his metal bones.

Logan is not real happy with this turn of events.

The X-Men leap into action with an alacrity that soothes some of his ire. Maybe ninja are crashing his best friend's wedding (which he planned), but at least the group of highly efficient mutant teenagers he spends all of his time training are proving that they actually pay attention sometimes.

Kitty punches one ninja directly in the mask and Logan practically hears Piotr swoon. He grins fiercely and shouts, "Nice job, Half-pint!"

She looks over at him and exasperation crosses her face. "Behind you!" she calls.

Logan turns to find Prison Was A Learning Experience being menaced by two ninja. He groans. "Hey!" he yells. "Back off! Don't you know a non-combatant when you see one?"

The ninja look offended, if it is possible for people wearing black masks over their faces to look offended (it is). "How were we supposed to know?" one of them grouches, taking a swing at Logan as he approaches. "He's dressed like the rest of y'all."

Logan cannot believe that a ninja just said "y'all" to him. "Just leave him alone," he snarls, slashing at the ninja claws out, despite Chuck's admonishing voice in his head telling him not to kill anyone.

"Yoooooooooo!" Nicholas Braddock-Wilson is whooping it up as he plows through a second wave of ninja with gleeful abandon. Rogue and Remy are fighting back to back, occasionally kicking a few extra ninja in Jean's direction. Jean looks mad, probably because ninja at the wedding was _not_ part of the Plan and Jean hates it when things don't go according to the Plan. Logan has no idea how she stays sane in this place.

Scott lets Bobby call his shots, the latter lounging on top of the piano in what he possibly thinks is a sexy pose and yelling out targets for Scott to aim his eyes at. Scott looks like he's enjoying himself, which is rare enough, and Bobby hasn't missed one yet, so Logan is going to let it happen for now.

Jubilee and Ray are fighting beside one another, frizzing each other's hair beyond anything like necessary and taking turns shocking their ninja opponents. Pretty soon, they don't have any opponents, because even the sock heads can learn who is going to electrocute them and stay away.

Logan ends up next to Wade, who hasn't even bothered to draw his katana and is instead happily swinging away with his fists, knuckles splitting and healing as fast as the eye can follow.

"Just like old times, Jimmy!" Wade chirps. "This reminds me of that time in Japan!"

Logan squints at him in confusion. "You weren't getting married in Japan!"

"No, silly!" Wade giggles. " _You_ were!" And then he throws himself at a gaggle of five ninja and immediately is buried under their flailing limbs before Logan can do more than blink because wait, _what_?

 _Best not to think about it_ , the author suggests. _This fight scene needs to wrap up anyway, it's getting lame._

Logan's eyes widen and then narrow in suspicion. _Listen, he thought, you leave me out of this whole "author" thing. That's Wade's department._

 _That's fair_.

What was he thinking about?

Oh yeah. He ducks the ninja that flies over his head in a perfect arc and gives Betsy a nod. All around him, black-clad ninja lay in various states of disarray and injury on the floor, while black-clad X-Men congratulate one another on their excellent fighting skills. Bobby is actually flexing his muscles, which Logan should probably put a stop to… oh, no worries, Amara's got that one.

"Everyone alright?" Betsy calls. The non-mutant guests murmur in relief and shock. "Good!" she continues cheerfully. "Then we can get on with the reception! Anyone want to volunteer to clear our unexpected guests away from the dance floor?"

"I'll take care of it," Nick Fury stands up from where he's been sitting on the makeshift stage. He pulls out a cell phone and dials. "I've got some guys in the area. Besides," he adds, rolling his eye. "I'm not much for parties. Congratulations, you two. Please do not contact me for at least a month, or do anything that might cause me to contact you." He strolls away, talking into the phone, and a few minutes later, more people than Logan is actually comfortable with having in the mansion enter the ballroom and gather up the ninja, leaving with as little fanfare as they arrived.

Betsy's mother sputters a little. "Is this what you do with these X-Men?" she asks Betsy. Betsy looks around and grins.

"Pretty much, yeah," she says.

"Oh my," says her mother.

"Capital," Brian pipes in, beaming. "Cake, Mother?" He winks at Logan, confirming Logan's suspicion that he's been turning the British up more than usual today. Nobody actually _says_ "Capital!"

Logan searches out Chuck and finds him chatting happily with Blind Al. The Professor responds to Logan's querying eyebrows with a chuckle and a wave of his hand, so Logan moves on to the rest of his X-Men, one after another, confirming their well being.

That Cajun tries to hug him or something when he gets to him and Stripes. "Aw, Wolvy, you do care about Remy!" he croons.

Logan shoves him away and sticks a finger in his face. "You ever skive off to Louisiana in the middle of planning a wedding again and I'll hunt you down and have your guts for garters," he growls. He means for it to be threatening, but Rogue instantly ruins it by bursting into laughter and calling him a pirate. Whatever. Remy gets the message.

The photographer is staring at Logan with something creepily akin to hero worship in his face. "You saved my life," he says.

Logan rolls his eyes. "Prolonged it, maybe," he says gruffly. "And I might still end it if ya don't back off, bub."

"Look," says Does-This-Tattoo-Make-My-Bicep-Look-Fat, "I'm not trying to seduce Kitty. I swear. Seriously, I'm just here to photograph the wedding." He holds up his camera as proof, though of what, Logan really can't be sure. He doesn't know what photographers do. Mess around with Photoshop probably, which actually makes him a _liar_ in addition to being a jailbird.

"Good," Logan says. "You can keep it that way and you can leave."

"Uh, don't you mean ' _or_ I can leave'?"

Logan shows his teeth. "I said what I meant," he says.

"Logan!" Brian arrives in all his bedazzling blond beauty and sweeps him away. "Come on! We're toasting and it's your turn to make a speech!"

He gives the photographer an extra glare for good measure and makes his way over to the refreshments table, where Tabby hands him a glass of something he's definitely not going to drink now that he knows Tabby has touched it. Begrudgingly, he lifts the cup.

"To Betsy and Wade," he begins. "You two are both nuts. I can't believe I got roped into planning your wedding. Enjoy your life together full of ninjas and S.H.I.E.L.D. Your kid is gonna be just as annoying as you are. I don't know how to make speeches, just drink." He raised his glass and the little brats he's been half-raising all burst out laughing and toast him in return, urging the other guests to "drink up, yes, he's really done, no, he's not going to say anything else."

Logan dumps his glass into Chuck's without the other man noticing and goes in search of a moment of peace. He leaves the ballroom and ducks into the hallway, just in time to watch an avalanche of carnations tumble out of the closet onto Piotr and Kitty, hand in hand and just having opened the door.

Kitty sputters. Piotr blushes and stammers. Logan nods approvingly and decides that inside the ballroom, crazy as it is, at least doesn't have _this_.

It does have Betsy, stroking Wade's hair and pulling him in for kiss after kiss while the photographer walks around them in a circle, catching every angle, every movement. The two of them clutch at each other like no one else is in the room, breathing into each other, tasting, trembling.

"I love you, hunnybunny," Wade tells Betsy, voice and eyes adoring.

"And I love you," she replies, in his ears and his head and his heart.

"We should do this again sometime."

"Ha!" says Logan, passing by. "Not on your life."

The End

* * *

 **A/N: I would like to thank my seven year old brother for the phrase "who invented that useless nonsense," because it has become a part of my daily vocabulary.**

 **I don't know anything about Cajun food other than that it smells and tastes wonderful, so if any of the stuff I mentioned in this chapter is super obscure or actually is not as good as I thought it sounded, you can blame Wikipedia. Looking at Cajun recipes just made me too hungry.**

 **Well, this is it. See y'all in the archives.**


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